Meant to Be
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: Sherlock and John have been best friends for ten years, and now their friendship has hit a romantic level. (Teen!Johnlock AU. Friendship, romance, some rated M . Rated M to be on the safe side.)
1. Chapter 1: Making An Entrance

_**A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my newest story. If you've read my other story **_**Being 16 _(and if you haven't you should *wink wink*), please know that this story is 100% different and not connected to the other one at all. I wanted to start fresh. _**

**_I hope everyone enjoys. I'm having fun writing this one and I'm uploading it on my birthday as a gift to you all. _**

**_Enjoy! Please review! _**

* * *

In a romantic comedy movie, the less popular member of a couple would make their appearance about now by stumbling into a room and tripping over his/her own feet, falling on their face in front of everyone. The popular kids would laugh, and the cooler member of said couple would try to shut everyone up, and then go to the aid of their very embarrassed significant other.

Like I said, this is what would happen to a stereotypical romantic comedy couple.

Not in Sherlock Holmes' relationship. The tall glass of water walks into the class (late, of course) as suave as ever. His long coat flows without wind, his eyes glistening crystal blue, and when he minutely snaps his neck, his curly, black hair flops into place against his forehead. He takes a deep breath, his chest broadening and his back straightening.

The teacher, Mr. Hall, snatches the paper from his hands.

"Busy...helping Ms. Weber? You, Holmes? Helping?"

Sherlock grins widely and as innocently as he can. He wasn't helping to do anything; Ms. Weber just has a crush on him so she writes notes for him all the time.

"Take a seat," Mr. Hall demands.

Sherlock adjusts his bag on his back and moves swiftly through the room.

"Watson?" Mr. Hall calls. "Watson!"

John watches Sherlock step passed him, Sherlock glancing down at John and doing that stupid half smirk that never fails to make John want to smack him.

With a kiss, that is.

"Watson!"

John nearly jumps at his name being called that third time. "Yes sir?"

"Done making eyes at Mr. Holmes? Or do you need a minute?"

John clears his throat. "I could use a second or two longer, sir."

The kids laugh and Mr. Hall rolls his eyes.

"Funny, Mr. Watson. Now will you please answer the question?"

John doesn't know the answer, he wasn't even paying attention when Sherlock entered the room. So he blurts the first thing that pops into his head. "Uhm, four?"

The kids laugh again.

Mr. Hall sighs. "Anyone else?"

Sherlock doesn't raise his hand like the other students, he just calls his answer over everyone. "Five hundred, seventy two point three," he says in his deep baritone.

Sherlock never fails to make him feel like an idiot; the boy had walked into the classroom not three minutes ago. One glance at the board and Sherlock knew the answer.

John blushes straight up to his ears. He can practically feel Sherlock grinning behind him; he doesn't need to look at Sherlock to know he's giving John the "I'm-smarter-than-you" grin.

John thinks he does it because though their relationship is fairly new, their friendship goes back to primary school, and in that time they'd developed a sibling rivalry, of sorts.

Sherlock claims he does it because he likes the way John's fuller cheeks look with a tinge of rose.

Mr. Hall passes out their take-home quizzes and dismisses the students early. He usually does so when he can actually hear stomachs growling.

Sherlock rushes out of the class, by way of the back door, and John quickly packs his things and runs after him.

"John!" Brady, his best friend, calls. "Lunch?!"

"Yeah, be right there!" he calls, then runs out of the room.

He catches Sherlock as Sherlock is emptying his rarely used books into his locker.

"Hey," John says as he stops next to Sherlock.

Sherlock glances at him and smiles.

"I hate when you do that," John says.

"Do what?"

"Distract me, and then make me look like an idiot."

"John, I don't ask you to stare at me every time I walk by. You're not very discreet in hiding your crush on me."

"A crush? A crush is what I had six months ago. Now I'm allowed to look, and when I do you never fail to make me look like the biggest airhead in class."

Sherlock laughs. "Four, John. Four?"

John shakes his head. "It's what you do to me."

Sherlock closes his locker and looks at John. "Lunch with Brady?"

John nods. "As always."

"Well, have fun."

"I'll see you later."

Sherlock smiles at him once, then turns down the hall to leave.

John watches him go.

John turns to walk away, but before he can he pauses and turns back to Sherlock. "Hey!" he calls down the empty hallway.

Sherlock turns around.

"I love you!" John shouts.

Sherlock smiles. "I love you, too!"

John smiles contently, then turns down the hall and leaves.

* * *

It's been six months since they became Johnlock, as John's friend Brady frequently refers to them. John hates it, he thinks it's stupid and childish, but he secretly loves it because he and Sherlock? They're a package. They're a team. They're a whole.

But their hope-to-be lifelong affair began long before that. In times when girls were supposed to be icky and boys were supposed to be the only good substance on earth (primary school), they were icky to each other. It's as if they knew; it's as if they saw that girls weren't for them and one was for the other, but of course seven-year-olds don't understand that. Seven-year-olds see another boy who they don't want to be near as an enemy, maybe.

But that wasn't the case.

Through their life, John will remember the way Sherlock's hair went all the way to his neck, and it was so dreadfully pretty that he wanted to brush it the way Harry let him brush her best dolly's hair, and Sherlock will remember the little stout boy that looked too cuddly to not want to cuddle.

And then John will remember the boy with the pretty hair opening his big mouth and being _so annoyed _and yet…so…_amazed. _

The first time they met, Sherlock successfully deduced what John had for breakfast, what he painted in art class, and that his jeans were too tight. John just watched, feeling both confused and in awe, and once Sherlock paused to breathe, John said, _"Fantastic."_

Sherlock, who had been called fantastic exactly never in his life, choked on the long breath he was taking. _"What'd you say?"_

_"I said you are fantastic,"_ John repeated, resting his chin in his hand and looking at Sherlock as if he was the most interesting program on television. _"Don't stop,"_ he said.

Sherlock smiled, and then did as asked. He didn't stop. And he hasn't stopped.

Since then they've been nearly inseparable. Now, _nearly _needs to be added because they can both be hard to handle at times. They've fought a lot, mostly the same way siblings would fight (shoving matches, petty arguments, irrelevant disagreements, for example). _"Am I going to have to separate you two?" _was a question frequently asked during their childhood together. Many times were their parents called because they were caught fighting on the playground.

But sometimes they'd fight like an old married couple with problems like one bossing the other around, one deciding that with their money put together, they can buy ice cream cones instead of a thermometer needed for an experiment, or that they just can't stand the sound of the other's voice.

They'd spend a while apart, saying something like, _"I can't be near you right now."_, but the while usually ended because one of them would say, _"I miss him."_ and he'd end up calling the other. They wouldn't apologize, they never needed to, they'd just pick up where they left off before the fight. (Though, one time Sherlock made John extremely angry, so as an apology he picked John roses from his mummy's garden.)

Once they became teens, their childish fighting disappeared because they became _men. _Men don't fight with their best friend, men don't need timeouts or their parents to be called because their argument grows too heated. They learned to fight and move on, or to not fight at all (which was preferred by everybody).

Then last winter happened.

* * *

**Eleven months ago**

It was Sherlock's birthday. He was turning sixteen and he was ecstatic. John was already sixteen, and it was completely unfair that John got to be a whole age older than him for an entire nearly eight months, but every year, John made Sherlock's birthday extremely special. And this year was no different.

John was so proud of the book of bee slides he found Sherlock that he decided to give it to him the night before. They were in Sherlock's room, sitting on his bed while he opened the gift.

He was so excited for the gift, of course.

_"John,"_ he muttered, at a loss of words. _"These are…where did…"_ He looked over at John, who was silent next to him. He was shocked to find John sitting so close, as one usually is when finding someone so close to them that they need to manually refocus their eyes.

Sherlock was so happy that the overwhelming desire to kiss John came over him, and he minutely leaned in to seal the deal.

Then, Sherlock just as quickly realized what a bad idea that'd be. Kissing? That muddled friendships.

He quickly stood with the excuse to show a slide to John now, but John didn't move. It's as if he waited for Sherlock to return for a kiss, as if he expected it.

Sherlock didn't mention it again, but after that incident, his brain was very…cloudy. He didn't know how he felt. Did he want to kiss John? Did he want John to want to kiss him? How long has he wanted to kiss John? What did this mean? How does he feel?

It took a very long time (about a week and a half) for Sherlock to realize that he had strong feelings for John as more than just a friend.

But of course, being a sixteen-year-old boy, this meant not mentioning anything to John.

For five. whole. months.

Sherlock was left lonely, often times sad, with a hole where his stomach should be because those stupid butterflies that appeared each time John was near ate their way through him. His heart was overworked and his longing was becoming unbearable, so he _finally _found time to tell John about how he felt.

He thought the best way to do this was through a nice dinner. He invited John over one evening when he was sure to be able to be alone with John, and had John's favorite meal waiting for him. John was very excited, if not a bit shocked, so they ate silently for what seemed like an infinite amount of time.

When they finished, they took a walk out to the pool, where they decided swimming wouldn't be necessary for the evening.

On their uncharacteristically silent walk back, Sherlock decided that enough was enough. He stopped on the trail and John stopped a few steps passed.

_"Sherlock?"_

_"John,"_ Sherlock sighed. _"I have to tell you something. I…"_

John looked at him with large, curious eyes. _"What is it? You can tell me anything, you know that."_

Sherlock ran his long fingers through his long curls. _"I just…John, I really like you. And I'm…well, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel the same, it's just that this has been driving me crazy for…for months now, and I—"_

John sighed relief and began to laugh.

_Why is he laughing? _Sherlock asked himself. _Does my embarrassment amuse him? Does he think I am foolish? _

_"Jesus, Sherlock,"_ John rubbed his face, _"I thought you were asking me to stop hanging out with you. You've been so distant the past few weeks, I was sure you didn't want to be my friend anymore."_

Sherlock felt extremely confused. _"So, you're not…mad?"_

_"Mad?!"_ John questioned. _"Of course I'm not mad, you dope. Why would I be mad?"_

_"Because…because you're you, and I'm…I'm a boy…and—"_

_"Oh, Sherlock,"_ John sighed. _"I thought…I thought you didn't like me. That night, the night before your birthday, I thought we had a moment, I was so sure that was it, but when you pulled away…"_ John paused, and then added, _"I've come to terms with you not liking me like that."_

_"But I do like you like that, John,"_ Sherlock quickly said.

John smiled as widely as he could. _"Well, that's just fantastic then, isn't it?"_

_"Is it?"_

John reached over and grabbed Sherlock's hand, like he'd done one million times throughout their childhood, only this time it felt different; it felt right. Then they kissed and it felt…complete.

They told each other that they love each other not long after that. It was something that they both needed to say a long time before they did, and once they said it, they felt where they should be. All the young fights, the unnoticed gentle touches as kids, the giggly happiness they had with only each other, it all made sense. Their only regret was not realizing it sooner.

* * *

**Now **

Now is lunchtime, so John goes to the cafeteria to eat with his best friend Brady while Sherlock goes to read in the library, just like they've always done and they always will do. They'll miss each other, sure, they usually do, but they'll both get through the afternoon with the anticipation of being together after school. And that's always a great thing to look forward to.


	2. Chapter 2: Family

_**A/N: Thank you for the kind words last chapter! I'm glad many people enjoyed it. Hope you enjoy chapter two. **_

* * *

Sherlock and John have been friends for a long time, so it's not all that surprising when Sherlock arrives home from school to find John sitting on his sofa between Rebecca, Sherlock's mother, and Ramona, Sherlock's aunt.

"Mother!" Sherlock calls, entering the front door and going into the sitting room. "Mother, I'm-" As soon as he spots John, he pauses. "What are you doing here?"

John looks up from his plate of cookies and smiles.

"We were just catching up, love," Rebecca tells her son. "Honestly, John never visits _us_ anymore. He used to come to see the whole family, but now…"

"Yes, well," Sherlock sighs, annoyed. He doesn't like sharing John, not even with his harmless mother. "When you're finished with the sweets, I'd like you to help with what I needed you here for in the first place."

Sherlock sweeps away, his coat whipping behind, and the three on the sofa watch.

"That boy is so dramatic," Ramona says.

"He can be," John agrees. He sits up and sets his plate on the table. "I'd better go, then."

"Don't be a stranger, John," Rebecca says. "If you get bored of my wretched son, we can always use a third for cards."

John smiles at the sisters. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for the snack."

Rebecca and Ramona smile at John, then he turns to follow Sherlock.

John gets up to Sherlock's bedroom to find him whirling around the room. He's pulling out books, setting up beakers, starting timers, all for an experiment that John, of course, doesn't understand.

"Finally," Sherlock mutters when he finally spots John. "Ok, I need you to take three beakers and fill them to the third line of water. One freezing cold, one lukewarm, and one boiling hot. Then, I need you to-"

John fondly smiles at Sherlock's whizzing mind. He can practically see the dials working; he can definitely hear the gears shifting. He loves watching Sherlock work, most of the time. He enjoys the way Sherlock walks in circles as he talks, the way his hands and arms wave with each emphasis, and the way Sherlock is so focused.

But he likes to mess with the focus.

When Sherlock walks past him a fourth time, John grabs his arm and pulls him to a halt. Sherlock looks down at John's hand, then up at John's face.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all day," John softly says, pulling Sherlock towards him.

Sherlock scowls. "I just saw you before last period began, you said-"

John chuckles. "It's an expression Sherlock. Besides, I haven't seen you. Not really."

Sherlock looks confused.

John just laughs and leans up to smack a quick kiss onto Sherlock's lips.

Those small, tiny, insignificant kisses are John's favorite. When they're in public and John does it, Sherlock goes on about his business as if nothing happened at all, and once John asked Sherlock why he doesn't acknowledge those kisses.

_"Because,"_ Sherlock had said, _"When you kiss me like that, the quickness of it, the ease, it's…natural, John. As natural as blinking. I don't notice blinking, do I? And no, John, I don't mean it doesn't mean anything to me. I mean that it's…like a muscle memory. Like I've been meant to do it my entire life."_

Needless to say, John was very happy with that answer.

When they're alone, however, Sherlock nearly always expects more than the small kiss. Because of this, after John leaves a kiss, he always pulls away to see Sherlock's lips still puckered as if waiting for more. That John loves because Sherlock's lips are the most delectable things John's ever seen. And when they're puckering to receive a kiss from him? The site is incomparable.

So Sherlock nearly always gets that second kiss.

When they pull apart the second time, long seconds after John went in for another kiss, Sherlock is smiling.

"See what I mean?" John wonders, letting Sherlock's arm go. "I haven't seen you all day, not really."

"But John, I saw you just a few—"

"Ugh!" John sighs, exasperated. He picks up the three beakers Sherlock needed filled. "Never mind. What do you need?"

John wanders back downstairs, figuring he'll really blow Sherlock away by actually boiling and freezing water for a few minutes, until they're at a reasonable temperature.

When he gets down into the kitchen, Sherlock's father is washing vegetables.

"John!" Sherlock's father, Clement, exclaims. "I thought I heard you."

Sherlock's very tall, very handsome father walks around the island to hug John. John happily hugs back, for other than his boyfriend, Clement is his favorite member of the Holmes family.

As stated, John and Sherlock have been friends for a very long time. So John's been a part of this family for just about half of his life. In that time, John and Clement have formed a bond, of sorts. Clement is the father John never had, the father he'd wished could be his. John would spend the night at Sherlock's house so often so he could wake up to watch cartoons with a dad on Saturday morning.

And Clement always made it worth their while. They'd make breakfast, they'd watch cartoons, he'd take the two boys to the park. Being from a wealthy family, and with Sherlock's mother working enough for two parents, Clement didn't have to work, so he'd be there for the boys when Rebecca and John's mother couldn't be; he was their classroom helper, he even helped coach John's football team (even though he had no relation to any player on the team). The truth is, John enjoyed being with Clement just as much as he liked being with Sherlock.

Now is no different.

"What are you making?" John wonders, peering into the pot that Clement is tossing veggies into. "Smells great."

"It's quite cold, I thought I'd make soup," Clement tells him. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Yes, of course," John says, knowing his mother works late this evening. "I've got to take these back to Sherlock, but we'll be down for dinner."

"Make him wear his hat if you go outside, please?" Clement asks. "You know I can't deal with ear infections."

John chuckles, picks up the beakers, then goes back to Sherlock's bedroom.

They do end up going outside, after ten minutes of fighting about the hat. John ends up sitting on Sherlock's chest and tying the hat to his head. Sherlock scowls the entire time.

"I'm not talking to you if you get an ear infection," John tells Sherlock, pulling the hood to his jacket on. "You're irritable, whiney, annoying, and on top of all that you're germy."

"I'm all of those things anyway," Sherlock retorts.

"You're right. Why do I talk to you again?"

Sherlock glares.

John smiles and kisses Sherlock's nose. "Now, come on. I'm hungry and dinner is almost ready."

* * *

They go outside, down near the pool, where the snow is the most soft because nobody ever goes out there.

Sherlock sets his tray of experiment necessities down and gets the beakers. He packs each in the snow and asks John to hand him the saucer of brown-ish powder. John asks what it is, but Sherlock ignores him.

Sherlock takes a pinch of the substance, then drops it into the beaker of freezing water. It begins to fizz nearly immediately, and in seconds, the beaker explodes under the snow.

Sherlock's face transforms into a very large, satisfied smile. "Excellent," he says, digging as much broken glass out of the snow as he can. He takes the other beakers out and arranges them back onto the tray and contently sits back onto the snow.

"That's it?" John questions.

Sherlock's head slowly turns to look at John. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open. "I beg your pardon?"

"I just…it…that's it?"

"It exploded, John. What more do you want?"

"I don't know!" John cries. His hands make the motion of a bigger explosion. "Bigger explosion, perhaps?"

"You heard my father! No more explosions!"

John shrugs. "I guess it was…kind of cool, then…"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and stands, taking the tray with him.

"Hey, hey!" John tries, following Sherlock up. "I'm sorry. It was great, I just never know what's going on, you know that. Everything you do is fantastic, you know that."

"I don't, John," Sherlock says, setting the tray on the table by the pool and sitting at a frozen seat.

John stands next to him and strokes the fringe sticking out of his hat out of his eyes. "You do know, Sherlock. I think everything you do is amazing."

Sherlock looks up at him with giant puppy-dog eyes. "Really?"

John half smiles, then leans down and kisses Sherlock's nose. He makes a face when he pulls away. "Cold nose."

Sherlock smiles.

"So," John says, pulling Sherlock up off the seat. He sits where Sherlock was, then pulls the skinnier boy onto his lap. "Harry's back from uni, and my mum will be working a long night shift on Friday. Harry wants to have a party. Whatdya say?"

"To Harry having a party?" Sherlock shrugs. "I don't think I have much say, really. She's an adult, she—"

John laughs. "You dope. To coming to the party."

Sherlock makes a disgusted face, which makes John laugh.

"I do not do parties."

John sighs. "I know, but-"

"You've known me for nine, nearly ten years, when have I ever expressed interest in parties?"

"That one time-"

"When we were ten and your mother took us to a..." Sherlock waves a noodly arm, at a loss for the word. "Trampoline place."

John chuckles. "Well, what about-"

"When we were seven and you said you'd have a dinosaur cake for your birthday. _That_ I was excited for, but you had a Toy Story cake instead."

"Rex is a-"

"Cartoon dinosaurs don't count, John."

John chuckles again and rubs the back of Sherlock's neck. "Look, you're my best friend, you're my boyfriend, and I want you to come to my party. My sister's bringing friends, someone is bound to be interesting enough to talk to."

"Yeah, but he'll be hosting the party."

John half smiles and blushes. "Fine, fine," he says. "If you come and you get bored, you can just barricade yourself in my bedroom again like last Christmas."

"You didn't say your cousin was going to have an...attraction...to me."

"Yeah," John says through gritted teeth. "I didn't think she'd follow you around all night."

Sherlock looks at John's face. "That bothered you?"

"Sherlock, I was in love with you. Of course it bothered me. I thought she had a chance with you."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "She was boring, John. And so not you."

John smiles.

Sherlock leans down to kiss him lightly.

As soon as they pull apart, Sherlock says, "And I wouldn't have been up there that long had you just given me your laptop password like I asked."

"I do admit, it was nice that you asked for once."

"It was a rare occasion," Sherlock admits. "Will there be...kids from school...at your party?"

John purses his lips, knowing this would be an issue. "I did invite a lot of people-"

Sherlock sighs.

"But," John adds. "I only added everyone who will leave you alone. As long as you leave them alone."

"John, I never even-"

"I know, Sherlock, I know. I'm on your side, remember?"

Sherlock nods.

"So just, you know...be..."

"Nicer?"

John slightly nods.

Sherlock sighs. He knows John wants him to be there, and he knows how disappointed John will be if he denies. "Fine," he finally says, "I'll go to your stupid party. As long as nobody talks to me."

John smiles wide. "You will?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and stands from John's lap. "I do hate repetition, John."

John laughs and follows him up. "Whatever. You will have fun, I promise. And if you don't, well then..." he slyly winks and smirks. "I'll make it up to you."

"Do you mean..." Sherlock practically purrs, pushing himself into John's personal space.

John's eyelids grow heavy as he gazes at Sherlock's heavenly mouth.

Sherlock continues, against John's lips, "Unlimited experiments for two weeks?"

John sighs and pushes Sherlock away. "Fine. You baby."

Sherlock smiles and leads John back to the house.


	3. Chapter 3: Party

**_A/N: Hope everyone had a nice Halloween. I dressed as Marceline from Adventure Time and really freaked people out with the fake vampire fangs. Anyway. Thanks for the feedback, it's always welcome and nice to hear. _**

**_I'm remembering to post the url to my tumblr blog for my fics. It's _347 9084 . tumblr . com_ remove the spaces. _**

**_This chapter is rated M. _**

* * *

On Friday night, Sherlock arrives at the party at eight, just like John told him. He puts on his nicest jeans and nicest black sweater vest, he even combs his hair, before making the trek to John's.

The fact that they're only four blocks away from each other most times is the most convenient thing, for both of them. It means that entertainment is only down the street, and somewhere to go when you're lonely is just a short walk away.

John opens the door with a smile. "Hey, Buddy," he jokingly greets.

"Don't call me that," Sherlock instructs, pushing past John to go inside.

The house is empty, save for muffled music coming from upstairs.

"Hungry?" John asks. "My mum got us-"

"You lied. You said there was a party. Where is the party?"

John laughs. "Relax, Sherlock. I wanted you here early."

Sherlock eyes him. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to hear you whine about how I didn't spend any time with you tonight. Now," John sits on the sofa and pats the seat next to him. "Sit down, kiss me, and tell me about your day."

So Sherlock does. After sitting next to John (close enough for Sherlock to twine his fingers with John's, to John's delight), he starts with the kissing, then he starts talking and doesn't stop for an hour, not until the music from upstairs stops. Loud laughing is heard through the house, and John and Sherlock look up at the ceiling when they hear thumping footsteps.

Their gaze shifts to the stairs when a door swings open and the footsteps are heard heading to the stairs.

"Hey John!" a loud, high pitched voice calls. "Where's my-" she pauses when she sees Sherlock. "Oh, hey Sherlock!"

Sherlock waves a bit. "Hey, Harry."

Harry smiles and continues down the stairs in front of three other people; two girls and a boy.

"Sherlock, this is Clara, Sarah, and Ben. Guys, this is John's boyfriend, Sherlock."

Everyone says hello. Sherlock notices Ben's lingering gaze on either him or John, so he tightens his hand in John's and leans so his shoulder is pressed against John's.

"What did you want, Harry?" John asks, hardly noticing Sherlock at all.

"My Ramones shirt. Ben spilled vodka on his shirt."

John shrugs. "I don't-"

Finally, the doorbell rings. John brightens up, knowing its a party guest, then he practically runs to the door.

The party starts quickly after that. Many kids show up, a lot of alcohol gets passed around, and Sherlock just tries to stay out of the way.

John talks to everyone, only checking on Sherlock a few times. Sherlock stands against the wall, not trying to be noticed by anyone.

He succeeds, until around eleven o'clock, when Harry's friend Ben finds him.

"I've been looking for you," Ben says, trying to shake Sherlock's hand. "I'm Ben. And you're Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock glances at Ben's hand, but doesn't do anything more.

"Harry's told me a lot about you," Ben says, shifting so he's standing next to Sherlock instead of in front of him. "She told me about your little...trick."

Sherlock just nods, not wanting to talk to Ben.

Ben doesn't leave, though. "It sounds neat, what you do. It's like a superpower, knowing everything about everyone by one glance."

Sherlock shrugs and sips his drink (water).

"Do me," Ben says, crowding Sherlock close.

Sherlock chokes on his water. "What?"

"Tell me everything about myself," Ben asks again.

Sherlock shakes his head. "That's not a very good idea."

"I asked, didn't I? Come on, I'm expecting the worst."

Sherlock concedes. Ben did ask. If it goes south, at least he has that to defend himself. He gives Ben one more look over, then spills:

"You were involved in a mugging just two days ago, but you'd rather hide it than ask for help or let anyone know. You're not drinking, and someone else spilled vodka on your shirt earlier. Your hand has been in your pocket all evening, you're twiddling something between your fingers, and you're very on edge. So I can assume...A.A. chip? A year sober?"

"How-"

"I can tell you tried to fight your attacker, from the bruise on your knuckles, but I can tell he won because the poor make-up attempting to cover the bruise on your cheek.  
As for A.A," Sherlock adds, "well, you had to have met Harry Watson somewhere. Obviously it's not working out very well for her. She only went to one meeting, didn't she?"

Sherlock looks at Ben as soon as he's done talking, and Sherlock is sure Ben is about to throw his drink in Sherlock's face. Sherlock didn't tell him anything truly offensive, even he knows that, but people react extremely to their secrets being uncovered.

To his shock, however, Ben mutters, "Wow."

Sherlock looks away from Ben.

"Amazing," Ben adds.

"So I've heard," Sherlock sarcastically says.

"You don't hear that often?"

Sherlock finally spots John emerging from the crowd of people. "I hear it enough."

Ben follows Sherlock's gaze to John. He smiles. "How long have you and John been together?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Few months."

"And I bet you're just terribly smitten," Ben says.

Sherlock doesn't have time to find out what he means, for John makes his way to them just then.

"Harry's going to shut the party down," John tells Sherlock, quickly and frantically grabbing his hand. "Let's go to bed."

"Uh..." Sherlock mutters, then lets John drag him upstairs.

"John..." Sherlock tries as soon as they're in John's bedroom. "I have to go home. You know I can't spend the night."

"Please?" John begs. "Just tell your dad you slept on the couch again."

Sherlock sighs and tries to get his hand out of John's grip.

"You can't leave me alone," John says. "If you leave, you'll be wondering all night if I'm going to choke on my own vomit or something."

Sherlock pauses. John is right, of course. Sherlock would be terribly worried about John all night if he leaves. "Fine," Sherlock finally agrees.

John smiles. "I promise to keep my hands to myself," he says, chuckling to himself.

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he only goes to John's drawer to pick out pajamas for himself.

Once they're both ready, they climb into the bed, laying facing each other.

"Did you have a good time?" John asks after a loud yawn.

Sherlock shrugs.

"Tomorrow we'll spend all day together, yeah? Maybe I'll bake you some cookies."

Sherlock perks up. He loves when John bakes.

"Like that, love?"

Sherlock nods.

"Harry'll be gone by morning, she's leaving town with her friends. After my mum goes back to work at ten, we'll be alone."

"Should I...be gone...before your mum arrives?"

"Nah," John snorts. "Don't worry about it. She won't check on me."

Sherlock nods and closes his eyes.

"I love you," John whispers minutes later, after Sherlock thinks he's asleep.

"I love you too John," Sherlock whispers back.

* * *

Sherlock wakes up the next morning really very happy. He's completely surrounded by John; he can feel John, he can smell John, he can hear John, and if he opens his eyes he would see John's hand on his chest.

As if feeling him wake, John's sleeping body shifts closer to Sherlock, as if saying, _"Don't you dare move." _However, with the closer press, Sherlock's eyes fly open and he gasps. John is pressed very tightly and very…_hard…_against his backside.

They haven't had sex. They did try, though, about a month ago. Sherlock, even though he wouldn't admit it, was terribly nervous. He hardly talked during the dinner John made for them, he hardly talked while they digested afterwards, and he didn't say a word while they made their way up to John's bedroom.

_"We are not doing this," _John had said, who was second by second growing more nervous than Sherlock.

_"I'm sorry, John,"_ Sherlock tried to apologize. He didn't want to ruin this evening for John, who actually had been excited about it.

_"Only be sorry that you didn't voice your concerns, love. I don't want to hurt you, so if you're not ready, you're not ready." _

Sherlock just nodded and let John kiss him a few times before leading him back downstairs to eat ice cream.

But now, intimately in bed with John for the first time since then, and after all the knowledge of sex he could possibly cram in his head over the past month, he feels different. There's no pressure. There's no time limit. They won't be interrupted. The only problem is that John is the most difficult person ever to wake up.

So Sherlock gets to work before he loses the desire to be with John.

He starts by poking the arm that's wrapped around him. "John…" he whispers, but the sound is lost. Obviously, poking isn't going to be the way to go, so Sherlock lifts John's arm off of him completely and turns onto his back.

Sherlock has a soft spot for early morning John. Even as kids, when they'd spend the night together, Sherlock would lay awake staring at him while charting his breathing patterns, his eye patterns, even the blush of his warm skin. And this was all _before _Sherlock realized he loves John. Now, there's a whole new canvas to chart: the way John licks his lips in his sleep, the pulse in his neck, the twitch of his fingers, and now the tent in his pajama pants.

Sherlock licks his lips and has the desire to lick John.

He shoves John's shoulder. "John, wake up."

John only rolls onto his back. Sherlock's eyes can't help but scale John's body. He props himself up on an elbow to look down at John's face. He strokes John's face, then kisses where his fingers left.

"John…" he purrs.

He kisses John's cheek again when John stirs a fraction, letting his head roll to look away from Sherlock, baring his neck for Sherlock's entertainment.

Sherlock leans close, first sniffing that neck. It smells of John, a hint of dry tequila, of sleep, and faintly of John's cologne. Sherlock doesn't mind the tequila scent, he just ignores it and begins to spread kisses on John's neck.

John sighs. He stretches his neck a fraction more, giving Sherlock more room, He kisses, licks, and sucks at John's neck, feeling himself getting as aroused as he hopes John is. So he climbs on top of John and continues licking his neck.

"Mmmm…" John sighs.

"Wake up, John, please," Sherlock begs.

John's hands slither over the sheets and up to Sherlock's thighs. He squeezes Sherlock's thighs and takes a deep breath, moving his head to face Sherlock again.

"What's this?" John wonders, excited confusion in his voice.

Sherlock plants his elbows on the bed on either side of John's head. "I thought that was obvious," Sherlock says, playing with John's hair. "I'm ready, John."

John smiles and kisses his nose. "Well then," is all John says, then wraps his arms around Sherlock's back and flips Sherlock over so he's now laying on John's arms. He kisses Sherlock deeply, and Sherlock is thankful he at least made John brush his teeth before bed.

It's not awkward, like they both thought it'd be. It's actually quite easy. They kiss for many minutes, until their bodies are begging for each other. Then, John pulls Sherlock's shirt up and presses a hand to his bare stomach, then rubs his hand up Sherlock's skin and stops at Sherlock's neck.

This makes them pause to rip their clothes off. John sits back on his heels to pull Sherlock's pajama pants off while Sherlock scrambles to get his shirt off, and soon John's as naked as Sherlock, so he falls back over Sherlock and grinds his hips.

"Oh, god…" Sherlock gasps, surprised.

"What? What?" John frantically questions, needing to be sure Sherlock is no less than one-hundred-percent good.

"That felt good," Sherlock says, still surprised. "Do it again."

John grins and does it again, slower this time, and Sherlock groans.

"Do this," John says, placing a hand on Sherlock's hip. He thrusts down and shows Sherlock how to undulate up, and Sherlock's eyes grow wide. "Good?"

"Perfect," Sherlock replies, continuously moving his hips.

"I love you, Sherlock," John mutters between short kisses. Not _the _short kisses, these short kisses are only short because they're trying to focus on rhythm.

Sherlock ends that after he tells John he loves him back by placing one hand on John's neck, one on John's bum, and sticking his tongue deep into John's mouth.

John gives up with the thrusting. Instead, he reaches between them and shoves his hand into Sherlock's pants, giving him half a dozen strokes before Sherlock spills all over his hand.

Sherlock groans and moans and pants, then whines as he comes. John watches his face, watches his eyebrows knit together, his eyes blissfully close, his mouth form a perfect circle, and his cheeks blush. Sherlock scratches John's shoulder as he begins to relax.

John lets him go, then reaches into his own pants and comes as Sherlock plunders his mouth and moans, and John realizes he wants to hear Sherlock make these noises forever. He never wants to stop touching Sherlock like this, he's so glad he's finally making Sherlock feel this way.

John cleans his hand on the discarded shirt, then tosses it towards the bathroom and lays next to Sherlock.

"So?" John asks, not sure what to say next.

Sherlock looks at him. "That was…good?"

John looks at him. "Was that a question or a statement?"

"Question," Sherlock clarifies. "I think."

"Oh. Good? No," John says, smiling. "It was amazing."

Sherlock smiles back.

"What brought that on?" John asks.

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know, I just woke up and wanted to. Plus, you were hard and pressing against my bum so it was—"

John covers his face, embarrassed. Sherlock can see his blush.

Sherlock chuckles and grabs John's arm to pull it away from his face. "I was going to say it was pretty sexy, and I had to have you."

John lowers his hand and looks at him. "Really?"

Sherlock nods. "I'm glad we did it. I'm glad it wasn't as awkward as I thought it'd be."

"It wasn't awkward, was it?" John asks, grabbing Sherlock's hand, then playing with his fingers.

Sherlock leans over and kisses John lightly.

After kissing and silently laying together for a few more minutes, John excuses himself to the shower. Sherlock is thankful, for the smell of alcohol is now being sweated out of John, so he check's his (John's) email while John is gone.

After showering, both of them, they go downstairs to have a private breakfast alone. When they're finished, they go to Sherlock's because he has an experiment that needs to be done and because John wants to be offered a home-cooked meal for dinner. They have a nice Saturday together, and with every kiss lingers the memory of the morning they shared.


	4. Chapter 4: Freak

**_A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you all are enjoying this. Reviews are always appreciated! _**

* * *

Harry is back by Monday, along with her friends. They're loud and annoying and it's too early, so John dresses quickly and goes downstairs.

"Johnny Buddy!" Harry yells as he enters the kitchen. She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight. "How was your weekend, Johnny?"

He pushes out of his sister's grasp, wondering why she's even hugging him. "Fine," he simply states, annoyed that he's even awake. It's still dark outside, and after staying up late to finish his homework, he wants to sleep a little bit longer before school.

John goes through the kitchen to get his backpack off the table before leaving the house. He tries to be quick, avoiding the girls (catching Clara's flirtatious smile), but Ben is standing at the table and grinning at John.

"Where you going, Johnny Buddy?" Ben mockingly asks.

John is too tired to demand Ben not call him that. "Out."

"Going to Sherlock's?"

John glances at him once, then grabs his bag and turns his back.

Ben follows him out of the kitchen. "That boyfriend of yours is an interesting character John," he says.

John nods as he grabs his coat.

"I quite like him," Ben adds.

John glares and pulls his coat on.

Ben holds his arms up in surrender. "I didn't mean anything by it, John. He's just…interesting. You're lucky."

"Thanks," John mutters, opening the front door.

"Hope to see you both around," Ben says as John slips out the door.

It's cold and dark. John wants absolutely nothing more than to sleep. Going to Sherlock's this early really isn't a big deal, not since three summers ago when Harry did nearly this same thing and Clement found out.

She'd been out all night with her friends when she decided to invite the whole party home. It was three in the morning when they got in, and they woke John up in the process. After Clement heard John telling Sherlock about it the next morning, he asked to speak to John privately.

_"John, I hope you know you're welcome here at any time,_" Clement had said. _"Even at three in the morning on a school night."_

John had felt terribly embarrassed. _"You heard that?"_

Clement just nodded. _"I want you to be safe, John, even from your sister. I don't know the people at your home, and you certainly don't either. If it happens again, you either call me directly or just come here, ok? You still have a spare key from snake-sitting for Sherlock last year, right?"_

John nodded, even though he had lied last year and said he lost the key.

_"Use it, ok?"_

John nodded again, then Clement hugged him.

John's had to take the offer twice since then, both for less extreme times (needing a quiet place to study but the Holmes family being out and once when Harry and John's mother were fighting in the middle of the night). He knows it's not a big deal that he go to their house, so he quickly walks the four blocks over.

Relief washes through John as soon as he lies on the sofa; it's quiet, he's warm, and the pillow smells like Sherlock.

* * *

He wakes a while later and the sun is shining like a halo around fluffy black hair. John immediately smiles.

"What are you doing?" the halo figure asks, then shifts out of the line of the sun.

John squints and rubs his eyes.

Sherlock, the halo figure, leans forward and lays his head on John's chest. John continues smiling and runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"I missed you yesterday, so I needed to be here when you woke up," John says instead of the truth.

Sherlock knows he's lying, not only because that's a really absurd reason to be sleeping on someone else's sofa, but because John's voice is rougher when he's lying. He decides not to push it, having learned a long time ago that if John wants you to know something, he'll tell you without having to lie first.

"How was your day with your mum?" Sherlock asks instead.

"Fine," John says. "We went grocery shopping and did laundry."

Sherlock nods and closes his eyes. John happily pets his head and refrains from pulling Sherlock onto the sofa with him. He longs to hold Sherlock, to feel comfort, but both know how uncomfortable they are with being intimate in anywhere the family usually is.

Finally, Sherlock sits up again. "I'm sure you're hungry," he tells John. "My dad is making you eggs."

John smiles and sits up.

"And my dad wants to know if we want a ride to school or if we were planning to walk. And I was hoping you could come over this afternoon to help me with an experiment."

"Of course," John mutters, putting his shoes on.

"And I was wondering if we could go to the museum tomorrow to see the new exhibit about plants. And—"

John decides to shut him up. He grabs Sherlock's hand as Sherlock is about to stand up and instead pulls Sherlock to kneel between his legs. He wraps his arms around Sherlock's neck and hugs him tight.

"Thank you," he whispers.

Sherlock buries his face in John's neck and hugs back despite their usual 'no-P.D.A.-in-the-sitting-room' rule. He knows John didn't have a very good morning and he knows John needs a hug. Not that he ever needs an excuse to hug John, especially feeling the need to be closer to John since Saturday morning.

When they pull apart, John places a hand on Sherlock's jaw and gives him a long, soft, close-mouthed kiss. He kisses Sherlock's nose when they part and Sherlock smiles.

They go to the kitchen for their breakfast, and Clement is very happy to see John. He doesn't ask John why he's there, he doesn't make John feel uncomfortable about the situation, he just hands John a plate and tells him to dig in. John does so without question, hardly ever being able to eat breakfast before school. He sits to eat and hides a smile when he catches Sherlock allow his father to kiss his temple.

After breakfast, John waits for forever while Sherlock gets ready, then they leave for school. They decide to walk because they want some alone time before school.

"So," John starts as they're walking. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine," Sherlock states. "I had to have lunch with Mycroft yesterday."

"Oh? How was that?"

Sherlock shrugs. "My dad made me be nice. He told me I had to say one nice thing to Mycroft before our lunch ended."

John chuckles at that. "Because it'll kill you to be nice to your brother."

Sherlock glares at him. "Like you and Harry are loving towards one another."

John shrugs. "Harry and I are different. You and Mycroft will care for each other to death, though."

Sherlock shakes his head. "It's not caring John, it's—"

"Yeah, yeah, competition, whatever."

Sherlock doesn't say anything.

"What did you and Mycroft talk about?"

"School."

"Again?"

"He still wants me to go."

"You know how I feel about it."

Sherlock stops on the sidewalk. "Why is it so hard for everyone to understand that I don't want to go to university?" he nearly shouts. "School isn't for me, John. It never has been! I only go because you're there, but if I didn't know you then I'd have left years ago."

"Sherlock, Sherlock," John places his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. "University will be different, ok? People there are different, more mature. They're not the pricks we go to school with now, ok? They're nicer, they'll see how amazing you are."

Sherlock frowns deeply and doesn't say anything.

John wraps his arms around Sherlock and pulls him close. He aches throughout his entire body for Sherlock; he can practically feel Sherlock's anxiety. "It'll be ok, Sherlock. I'm behind whatever you choose to do. I want you to go with me, but I won't tell you what to do because I want you to still love me."

Sherlock chuckles. "I know, John."

John pulls away and holds Sherlock at arm's length. "I love you. Do what makes you happy."

Sherlock nods.

John leans in and kisses his cheek, then feels someone kick the back of his thighs. He's about to turn around and shout, but he turns around to the grinning face of Brady, his other best friend.

Brady grins. "Scared ya?"

John shakes his head and cracks a smile.

"How's it goin', guys?" Brady asks, beginning to walk down the sidewalk.

Sherlock doesn't say anything. John knows that it's not that he doesn't like Brady, it's that he thinks Brady doesn't like him. This theory goes back to primary school when John met Brady. Sherlock knew Brady wanted John to be his best friend, but John always migrated back to Sherlock's side. Sherlock knows Brady's always been jealous, but John insists Brady doesn't show it. Now, John likes to spend equal time with both of them, for they're both equally his best friend.

"It's goin'," John replies, then asks Brady how his weekend was after the party.

They get to the school a few minutes later, and John discreetly kisses Sherlock's hand before they part ways. John hates this part of his day the most, having to leave Sherlock. He feels like a part of him is missing when Sherlock isn't with him. The happiness he feels when he even passes Sherlock in the halls is more like relief; like taking a deep breath after being stuck under water. And knowing how much Sherlock hates just getting out of bed to go to school, he knows Sherlock feels the same way.

John knows this isn't because they're boyfriends. It's not because they want to be able to kiss and hug whenever they want. He knows that it's because he and Sherlock are meant to function better near each other.

Sherlock and John rarely interact at school. They say hello in the halls, they share smiles and glances, but they hardly ever stand around to talk, and they definitely don't show any signs of being in a relationship. As a matter of fact, only a few of John's friends even know about them. The few people who know are nice and supportive, so for that John is thankful.

The other friends who don't know about them, John has still asked for them to be nice to Sherlock. John figures that if there are at least a few people in the school he can get to be nice to Sherlock, he'll do it.

* * *

Sherlock's learned over the years how to keep his mouth shut at school. With the aid of John and, really, the cruelty of kids around him, he's adapted to being the lonely quiet kid who sits in the back of the classroom.

Sometimes, however, he's not.

There's a small group of kids who really don't like him. Their leader is Vince, and unfortunately he's in four of Sherlock's classes. His last name begins with H as well, which means he sits directly in front of Sherlock for two of those classes.

Today, Vince is on a mean streak. All day he's been picking on Sherlock, and by last period Sherlock is just about done with holding it together while Vince torments him.

"What's up, Freak?" is the first thing he says to Sherlock when they meet for the fourth time that day. "I missed you in my last class, I didn't have a nerd to pick on."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, of course, even though he wants to. He ignores it, for "freak" and "nerd" isn't the worst Vince has ever called him.

The second thing Vince does is more awful to Sherlock because the teacher doesn't do anything. All the students are asked to pass their papers to the front of the room, and when Sherlock passes his to Vince, Vince crosses out Sherlock's name on the top and writes "Freak Holmes". Him and his friends around them laugh, and Sherlock's cheeks burn red with embarrassment. It doesn't help that the teacher only says, "Vince, writing on Sherlock's paper like that isn't nice!", which causes curiosity to spark within the rest of the class, which causes Vince to announce what he'd done.

Everyone laughs, and Sherlock's stomach turns with anxiety from unwanted attention. Everyone chimes in to call him names, the teacher tries to quiet them, everyone is too loud, everyone is looking at him.

Sherlock spills the first thing he can think of to say, "Just because your older brother abuses you doesn't mean you have to torment me like this, Vince."

He says it so low that only a few people hear. Vince does, though.

"What'd you just say to me, you little freak?"

Sherlock opens his mouth to repeat it, but Vince quickly stands and grabs Sherlock's shirt collar in one motion. He pulls his arm back, his hand in a tight fist.

"Vince!" their teacher yells, making her way through the small sea of students now formed around them. She yells at Vince to stop again, and this time he does.

"You'd better watch your back, Holmes. I'll really fucking hurt you next time."

Everyone begins to calm and return to their seats, but kids around them start to mutter stuff like, "Geez, Sherlock, he was just kidding with you, you don't have to say such awful things..."

This, of course, sets him off. How people could possibly think _he_ was in the wrong is enough to make his blood boil.

He buries his face in his arms and takes many deep breaths, although it's not helping because he's just breathing back his own air. He tries his best not to cry; the last time he cried things were much, much worse.

"Oh fuck," he hears one of Vince's friends say. "Vince, you made him cry again."

Everyone laughs louder, and this time their teacher yells to get them to stop. They finally do and she goes on with the lesson, leaving Sherlock alone to gather himself before joining the rest of the class.

Sherlock uses the rest of the class period to compose himself enough to be able to walk out the doors unnoticed. Crying attracts far too much attention.

As much as he needs John, he decides to leave as soon as the bell rings instead of waiting for John like he would. He knows John will find him, they'll be reunited shortly, but he can't find John while he so badly just needs to go home.

* * *

Sure enough, twenty minutes after Sherlock gets home, there's a light knock on Sherlock's bedroom door. He doesn't need to tell whoever it is to enter, for he hears the door open seconds later.

"Sherlock, love?" John softly asks, as if testing the waters. He quietly shuts the door and goes to the side of the bed that Sherlock is facing. He kneels to be eye level with Sherlock.

"How do you feel?" John asks.

Sherlock shrugs.

"Do you want something to eat or drink? I know how to make hot chocolate just like your dad makes."

Sherlock shakes his head.

John's at a loss. He wants to badly to make Sherlock feel better, but he doesn't know how.

When he's about to give up and just climb into bed with Sherlock, hoping it'll help, he gets an idea. He announces that he'll be right back, then leaves.

Downstairs, between the sitting room and the dining room, there is the grand piano. When Sherlock was younger, he would hide under there when he felt the need to hide. Clement would pretend he couldn't find Sherlock, knowing that if Sherlock was under the piano, he needed some alone-time.

John knows this story and hopes it will help with making Sherlock feel better. He blows up a mattress he finds in the hall closet, then gathers all the pillows and blankets he can find. The bed under the piano is nice and warm and soft, and he hopes Sherlock will like it.

John finds Sherlock in the same position in bed nearly twenty minutes. "Hey, feeling any better?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Well, I made you a nice, cozy bed under the piano. Do you want to go try it out?"

Sherlock is about to say no, but he pauses, thinking of how relaxing it used to be under the piano. He slowly nods, and John helps him out of the bed.

They get downstairs and Sherlock climbs under the piano and into the cozy retreat. John helps cover him, getting him nice and comfortable, then kneels next to him.

"You ok? You want something to eat or drink? Something to read?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Do you want me to go?"

Sherlock harshly shakes his head.

John nods and climbs under the piano himself, only he stays above the covers because he doesn't want Sherlock's dad to be upset about them both being under the blankets.

"Do you want to tell me what really happened?" John asks after a long, silent while. "I heard Vince's side of the story and I'm absolutely sure you didn't start it."

Sherlock shrugs. "Does it matter?"

His voice is so soft and low and breakable that John wants to cry for him. It's not often anymore that Sherlock is this upset, and John hates it.

"No," John says, brushing a curl out of Sherlock's eyes. "It doesn't. I just don't want you to keep it bottled up inside you, love."

Sherlock doesn't say anything for a few minutes. John runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

They're silent for a long time. Sherlock's head is resting a few inches above John's, so much that he can see over John's head and out the large glass door leading to the back deck. The snow is lightly falling and it's still plenty light out, so it's very bright beyond the door. It calms Sherlock, makes him happy.

John begins to think that talking about why he was on Sherlock's sofa this morning will help speed the process along of Sherlock talking about what happened at school. So he does.

"Harry and her friends got home this morning at four. That's why I was on your sofa. They were drunk, they were loud, and I didn't want to be there anymore. And…something else happened that I didn't tell you."

Sherlock's gaze shifts down to John, indicating that he's listening.

"Harry's friend Clara…" John distractedly plays with the edge of one of Sherlock's blankets. "Well, I thought they were together, you know? I thought..." John sighs, then continues, "Anyway, she…she kissed me the other night. I didn't want to kiss her, obviously. She just…came at me…really forcefully, actually…and Harry saw so she ran over there and…she pushed _me _away. She wasn't even upset with Clara, but…Harry _pushed_ me. Really hard. I have a bruise…I didn't even do anything, Sherlock, I swear."

John looks up at Sherlock and sees that his expression hasn't changed

"Are you upset with me?" John asks, fearful.

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Not even for her kissing me? I didn't want her to Sherlock, I promise."

Sherlock says the first thing he's said almost all afternoon. "I know."

John rubs Sherlock's side over the blankets. He rests his hand on Sherlock's hip.

"I told Vince something I shouldn't have," Sherlock nearly whispers minutes later. "Actually, a lot of people heard."

"What'd you say?" John curiously asks.

"I told him that just because his brother abuses him, he doesn't have to torment me the way he does. I shouldn't have…I just…"

John shushes him. "He was hurting you. At least you didn't punch him or something."

"So…you're not mad that I said that?"

John shakes his head. "Maybe you could have handled it differently, maybe just left the room or something, but no I'm not mad, Sherlock. I'm relieved that he didn't seriously injure you."

Sherlock nods and looks out the window once again.

"Is that all that happened?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Everyone laughed. They made me look like the bad guy, John, like I was in the wrong. But their laughter…" Sherlock closes his eyes and bites his lip.

"That hurts the worst?"

Sherlock slowly nods.

John rubs Sherlock's side again. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock takes a long, slow, deep breath. "I can't go back, John. I don't want to go back there."

John pauses, feeling instantly afraid. "I can't possibly be away from you, Sherlock."

"You can still see me after school and on the weekends. I'm not going back there, John."

John shifts closer to Sherlock. "No, Sherlock, please? Just switch out of Vince's classes, there's openings in most of my classes. Just…we'll find a better solution, ok?"

"John, I can't—"

"One more chance, Sherlock. Please? Just one more chance."

Sherlock sighs.

John looks up and presses his lips to Sherlock's as softly as he can. He shifts up so they're face to face, nose to nose, looking into each other's eyes.

"I can't be away from you," John whispers. "My heart aches from even thinking about it."

Sherlock presses his forehead to John's and closes his eyes.

"We'll find a solution," John says. "Your dad will know what to do."

Sherlock nods.

* * *

They pull apart and readjust in the bed because Clement will be home any minute. When he finds them, he asks for them to come out to talk soon. When they do, they tell Clement everything (about Sherlock's problem, not John's), all while Clement's arm is wrapped protectively around Sherlock. He hugs Sherlock and tells him he'll fix it, then hugs John and thanks him. Then, he takes the two boys to dinner and their evening ends on a much happier note.


	5. Chapter 5: Murder

_**A/N: I hope this story is going well. Hope you're all enjoying! Thanks for reading, please review!**_

* * *

Clement gets Sherlock's classes changed the very next day. Sherlock insists it won't make a difference, but John insists that it will help immensely. Not to mention, he's very excited about having Sherlock in more classes.

"Alright," Clement says as they exit the counselor's office. "Son, you _need_to tell me when things happen, ok? I had no idea about the detention you had to serve last month."

"It was her fault, Dad. She shouldn't have _purposefully _hit me with her purse."

"Either way, son," Clement tells him, "Sometimes you have a very poor way of handling things. Anyway, we'll talk more later. Don't forget that Mycroft is picking you up after school."

Sherlock groans.

"He said he's got a gift for you, because of what happened yesterday."

Sherlock nods, but frowns.

Clement pats his shoulder, then takes him in a hug. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Sherlock. And I highly doubt John does either."

Just then, as if on cue, John quickly rounds the corner. He nearly trips as his shoes slide on the floor, and Sherlock and Clement pull apart laughing.

"Speak of the devil," Clement mutters.

"Good, I thought I'd missed you," John says as he approaches them. "How'd it go?"

Sherlock holds up his new schedule and John punches the air in excitement. Sherlock smiles widely as he and John high-five.

"You boys," Clement says, beaming at them. He claps his hands together and announces that he's got to get home. "I'll see you boys later. Sherlock, don't forget about Mycroft. I'll be out all evening, so I'll ask him to feed you dinner."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

Clement chuckles and hugs him. "Be nice and I'll make you macaroni and cheese tomorrow night."

Sherlock perks up.

Clements smiles, then hugs John, then leaves.

Sherlock and John walk down the empty hall towards Sherlock's locker to retrieve his literature book.

"So," John says, "What's this thing with Mycroft?"

"I don't know; he just wants to see me this afternoon. He's got some sort of gift for me."

"How long do you suppose that's going to take?"

Sherlock shrugs. "All night, I suppose, if I'm to have dinner with him."

"You think perhaps you could get out of it? Say you're having dinner with me?"

"Why?" Sherlock asks, closing his locker and leaning on it to talk to John.

"My mum's got work and Harry's going to be out. I thought we could have some alone time."

Sherlock grins. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know," John says, pressing up to kiss Sherlock lightly. "Guess you'll just have to come over to find out."

Sherlock smiles wider and follows John down the hall.

* * *

Sherlock leaves the school with Mycroft after ten minutes of reasoning with him and waving a package gift wrapped with purple paper in front of his face.

"I wasn't going to give this to you until we arrived home," Mycroft says through the window, "but seeing as you need incentive to _get in the car, _here."

Sherlock eyes him and takes the package. Obviously it's something made of paper, perhaps a book or a very large magazine. "What is it?"

"Get in and I'll tell you."

Curiousity causes Sherlock to get in. They silently ride through town while Sherlock stares at the package on his lap. Mycroft says he can't open it until they're home.

"I'm taking you to my house," Mycroft says as they pass the turn leading to Sherlock's home. "There's more evidence there."

Sherlock quickly looks at Mycroft. "Evidence?"

Mycroft sighs and pulls out his mobile phone. "PC Lestrade has asked for your help once again. I thought the timing was impeccable because of yesterday's events, I figure it was fair to employ your assistance."

Sherlock excitedly touches the package. "Big file," he observes.

Mycroft grins. "I'll explain more when we arrive home."

* * *

John eagerly cleans up his disheveled bedroom and makes the bed. He doesn't know what the evening will hold, but he really hopes to be intimate with Sherlock once again.

He's about to get in the shower, wanting to be as clean as possible for Sherlock, when he receives a text message from Sherlock.

From Sherlock Holmes: **I won't make it this evening. Sorry. –SH**

John sighs, disappointed. He can't help but be upset by Sherlock cancelling on him, but he knows that whatever Sherlock is doing is more important.

To Sherlock Holmes: **It's ok. Don't kill your brother. I love you. xo**

He doesn't get a reply, which is alright. He gets ready once again and decides to invite Brady and the guys over for pizza and video games.

* * *

Sherlock and Mycroft arrive at Mycroft's house. Sherlock flies out of the car and up the stairs, very enthusiastically.

"I don't believe you've ever been so happy to be here," Mycroft says, opening the front door.

Sherlock rushes in. "You've never been this interesting before."

Mycroft can't help but smile.

Sherlock throws his coat over the sofa and sits at the kitchen island. He rips the package open. Sure enough, it's a very large case file. He opens to the first page to begin.

"It's a…a murder…" Sherlock sounds, astonished. He looks at Mycroft with bright eyes. "Myc, you got me a murder?"

Mycroft nods and begins to tell Sherlock about the case.

It's the murder of a thirty-two-year-old man. His body was found in a dumpster behind Tesco two nights ago. The peculiar thing is that there was no rough play, no wounds, and he didn't die of natural causes.

"Poison, surely," Sherlock mutters as Mycroft tells him that part.

"If it was that simple, would I even let you read the case?"

Sherlock looks up at him and grins. "I suppose not."

"Lestrade will be here later this evening," Mycroft tells him. "Will you be finished by tonight?"

Sherlock absentmindedly nods while standing from the island. "I'll be in my room," he says, going towards the stairs.

* * *

Sherlock's in his bedroom in Mycroft's flat all evening. He ignores two phone calls from his dad, three text messages from John, and dinner. He hears Lestrade arrive, then leave, and doesn't even wonder what time it is.

He finally checks his phone around three in the morning as he's changing into pajamas. He decides he'll get a few hours sleep and pretend to be too sick to go to school. He can surely solve it in the morning, all he needs is a few hours rest.

He reads the three texts first.

From John Watson: **What's going on?**

Two hours later:

From John Watson: **I'm actually pretty worried, Sherlock. Are you ok? Is everyone alright? Please let me know, I'm getting more and more worried by the minute.**

Half an hour after that:

From John Watson: **Alright, I called your dad. He said Mycroft gave you a case. Sorry I stressed, love. I'll see you tomorrow. Do well, I'm proud of you no matter what. **

He smiles as he pulls a t-shirt on and checks the voicemail message from Clement.

_"Could you let John know what you're doing every once in a while? The poor boy's worried sick. I'm assuming you're spending the night at Mycroft's so I won't expect you home. Your mum's gone to Munich for a week, so I suppose I'll be home alone this evening. Love you. Call John."_

Sherlock disregards the time of night and does as his father told him; he dials John's number and sits against the window.

"Sherlock?" John groggily answers. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Sherlock says, "I just…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called."

"No, no, I'm glad to hear from you," John says, more alert. "How's the case?"

"I haven't solved it yet," Sherlock says, then goes on to give John details about the case even though Mycroft told him not to.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, babe."

Sherlock's stomach flutters. John very rarely calls Sherlock pet names as such, but the few times that it's happened, Sherlock melts. He dreamily presses his head against the window and looks down at the street below.

"Go to bed, Sherlock. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I will," he replies, shivering at the contact of the window. "It's quite cold, it's a good thing I forgot your sweatshirt here last week. I'm sorry I ruined your plans for the evening."

"It's ok," John says, yawning loudly. "Put on my sweatshirt and get warm. Don't freeze to death tonight. It's the coldest evening in the city so far, but I thought it was pretty fucking cold starting like two weeks ago."

Sherlock chuckles and looks out the window once again. On the street there's a couple bundled close together wearing heavy coats.

"Wait," he suddenly pauses. "What'd you just say?"

"Wh-about the weather? I said it was pretty cold already but apparently _this _evening is—"

"No, before that. John, that's it!"

"What's it?"

"Freezing to death! We just solved a murder!"

John gasps. "I'm so confused."

"No foul play, no wounds, he didn't die of natural causes. There wasn't poison or drugs, so that has to be it! He froze to death!"

John chuckles. "Well done, Sherlock!"

"And you, John. I should've called you sooner. Go back to sleep, I've got to write this all down."

"See you tomorrow. I love you!"

"I love you too!" Sherlock says, then hangs up.

He opens up the email app on his phone and writes Lestrade a quick email. When he's finished, he cleans up the evidence and packs the file Mycroft gave him, then gets John's sweatshirt and goes to bed.

* * *

He wakes up shockingly refreshed after only three hours of sleep. He's so excited to tell Mycroft about it that he's up by six, when Mycroft wakes up.

He's waiting on the sofa when Mycroft leaves his bedroom for coffee. Mycroft shouts in surprise, not expecting to see Sherlock, then he sighs and listens while Sherlock tells him what he found, he evens continues to listen as Sherlock follows him into the bathroom to dress.

Sherlock doesn't try to stay home from school, he excitedly gets ready and lets Mycroft give him a ride. Mycroft thanks him and tells him Lestrade will be calling later that afternoon, then Sherlock runs out of the car to John.

They spend their time before school starts around the corner to talk about the case. John watches him, knowing this is the happiest Sherlock has been in weeks. Sherlock talks so wildly that his arms move with each exclamation, and it's often. John is just so happy to see him this excited.

* * *

When he arrives home that afternoon, Sherlock tells Clement all about it. Clement is just as happy as John is that Sherlock is so happy. Clement does as promised, makes Sherlock macaroni and cheese, and Sherlock is even more happy.

After dinner, Sherlock and John sit at the couch to watch television while Clement works, and Sherlock falls asleep quickly. He rests his head on John's lap and John strokes his hair; in minutes he's out.

Clement lets Sherlock sleep on John for a while, but once it's time for John to go, he shimmies out from under Sherlock and gets his coat. He goes back to Sherlock, kisses his forehead, and leaves. Clement leaves Sherlock on the sofa to catch up on the sleep he'd missed.


	6. Chapter 6: Jenna

**_A/N: Hello and thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the next few chapters (And of course the ones after). Thanks for reading, please review!_**

John is eager to find Sherlock at school the day after the case is solved. He knows Sherlock will be in a wonderful mood, and he never wants to waste that.

He walks into the school with Brady and plans to find Sherlock before their first class begins, but he's surprised to see Sherlock standing at the large bulletin board near the entrance to the school. Brady tells John they'll talk later, knowing he wants to be with Sherlock, and John silently walks up behind Sherlock.

Then he chuckles because Sherlock is arguing with a stapler.

"Come on, you piece of shit," Sherlock mutters under his breath. "Just fucking-"

John grabs the stapler from him and opens it so it's flat.

"Oh," Sherlock sighs, taking it back from John.

"What on earth are you doing?" John asks, still laughing.

"I'm-" he pauses to grunt as he mashes the stapler to the board. "I'm starting a business."

John reads the paper Sherlock just stuck. "Sherlock Holmes Detective Agency. What?"

"My dad saw how happy I was about the case yesterday, so he suggested I offer help to kids who need it."

John continues reading the ad, "Solves theft, vandalism, murder-" John instantly pauses. "Sherlock, you can't offer to solve murder!"

"Why not? I solved one yesterday."

John shakes his head and takes a pen out of his bag, then crosses out 'murder'.

Sherlock sighs and staples another paper to the board. "I opened up a new email account for this. I'd like you to help."

"Help? How?"

Sherlock shrugs. "You helped the other night."

John cracks a smile. "I did, didn't I?"

Sherlock can't help but laugh at his smug tone. "Yes, you did," he agrees. "Which is why I need you. Honestly, without your concern for my warmth, I wouldn't have figured it out."

John soothingly rubs his arm. "Well, that's just nature, I suppose. I want to take care of you."

"And you can," Sherlock tells him. "By helping me."

"Alright," John agrees. "What do you want me to do?"

Sherlock turns around in the hall to walk to class with John right next to him. He tells John about how he'll help with the things he's not so good at, like people skills. John's much better with people than Sherlock is.

Sitting in first period, Sherlock decides to check the email account to see if anyone's seen the fliers. He's extremely surprised when he sees there's one email.

When he opens it, he frowns and his stomach knots. It's from an unknown email, and it just says "FREAK!" in big, black letters. Sherlock disappointedly signs out, thinking that perhaps this was a horrible idea.

He doesn't tell John about the email, but decides to check again in second period. There isn't a new one, but throughout the class he gets a notification that there is one. He opens up the email to see nearly the same thing: "LOSER!" typed out in big, black letters.

He frowns and closes the email. Throughout the class, his phone vibrates with four more emails, all of which he assumes say the same things the others say. Each time his phone notifies him, he frowns deeply and his stomach turns.

"That's it," John says as they exit second period and Sherlock frowns again. "Give me your damn phone."

"What? John—"

"I knew this was a bad idea. Now those arseholes have a way to get to you without actually having to see you, Sherlock. This is cyber bullying, and I won't stand for it."

Sherlock adjusts the bag on his back and stands up straighter. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"Remember when we were ten and I knocked you off the monkey bars because you told me Prince William would never be my best friend?"

Sherlock instinctively grabs the back of his head where the scar from the stitches are. "Yeah…"

"I will not hesitate to do much worse."

Sherlock glares at him, tries to figure out if he's bluffing, can't figure it out, then hands over the phone.

"Wise decision," John says. "I'm changing the password on the account, that way you can't get in it. And don't you dare think about hacking it, mister."

Sherlock continues to glare down at his bossy boyfriend. "Fine."

John turns to walk down the hall to their next class. "You'll get this back when I'm done."

The hall is nearly empty, and they're about to be late to class, but Sherlock stops him. "John," he softly says.

"What?"

Sherlock stops walking. "They hurt my feelings, John."

John immediately stops and his face grows softer. "I know, love," he whispers, taking Sherlock in his arms and hugging him tight.

Sherlock wraps his arms around John's neck and rubs his cheek against the side of John's head. The bell rings but they don't move; Sherlock just wants to feel better.

"You ok?" John asks after many long minutes.

Sherlock nods.

John barely pulls away, leaving himself with enough room to kiss Sherlock lightly. "I love you, ok? Don't listen to those stupid bastards. You are brilliant and everyone who doesn't think so is stupid."

"Everyone _is _stupid," Sherlock says. He looks into John's eyes. "Except you."

John smiles. "I'm glad. If I was, I don't think you'd have kept me around this long."

Sherlock turns towards their class and grabs John's hand as he begins to walk. "You were stupid at first, I have to admit."

John laughs. "I was?"

"Yes! For about a month you kept chasing around Olivia when I didn't want to play."

"And that was stupid?" John questions.

"Of course it was. You were mine, even from the start."

John smiles and kisses Sherlock's hand. "Well, I'm glad I learned."

"Me too, John," Sherlock says, kissing John's hand back.

* * *

John gets the password to the email account changed during their third class and returns Sherlock's phone afterwards. He tells Sherlock that he will be forwarded any case that seems worthy of Sherlock's time, and they relay hopes that they get at least one.

John continues to receive very mean and rude emails all day. They hurt him knowing this is what Sherlock goes through on a daily basis, but he's glad he took it away from Sherlock, at least this much. Each time Sherlock asks if he's gotten any emails, John lies and says the bully finally laid off, even though he truthfully receives four or more emails per class period.

John finally just ignores them, knowing that getting angry won't solve anything.

Finally, during the last class of the day, John gets an email from an actually address, not a blocked source.

**From jennadarling: **_Dear Sherlock, I was nervous writing this email but your fliers seem genuine, so I hope you can help. I've lost the earrings my father gave me for my birthday, but I think they've been stolen. They're blue and in the shape of butterflies, and they're actually quite expensive. I take them off every gym period and put them in my locker, but yesterday they were gone when I went to retrieve them. I have a few ideas of who could have stolen them, but I can't confront anyone without evidence. So please, Sherlock, I'd really appreciate the help. Signed, Jenna Darling from your fifth period math class._

John smiles as he reads he email. He knows Jenna, he knows she's a really nice girl who wouldn't be playing any tricks on Sherlock. He's about to forward the message to Sherlock when the bell rings, so instead he rushes out to tell Sherlock as they walk home.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they're finally at Sherlock's house and already discussing the case.

"This is brilliant, John. Missing earrings can't be that difficult, and she's already got leads. This is perfect."

John smiles, watching Sherlock pace his bedroom. "I have Jenna's mobile number if you'd like to text her."

Sherlock suddenly pauses and pierces John with a suspicious glare. "Why do you have Jenna's mobile number?"

John rolls his eyes. "Because, unlike you, I talk to a lot of people. Jenna, in particular, was my lab partner last term, if you must know. Do you want it or not?"

Sherlock nods and tries not to show John how helpful this is.

* * *

Sherlock gets in touch with Jenna and she agrees to meet them at a café near their school at four o'clock.

When they arrive, Sherlock ignores her hugging John and tells them to shut up because it's time to get to work.

"Basically, you know what's happening from my email," Jenna says. She holds up a picture on her phone. "These are them. I only had them for two weeks. I haven't even told my dad they're lost because he'd be furious."

"You say _lost_," Sherlock says, "But you said you have suspects?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "A lot of girls say they like them, and a lot of people have asked how much they cost. That's not unusual, people often ask me how much my possessions cost, but this time it was different."

"How so?" John asks.

"Well," Jenna continues, "Some girls kept saying things like, _'Do you know what I could buy with that money?' _and _'You could spend that money on something actually useful, not a lousy pair of earrings.' _Nobody's ever said those things before. And one girl, Christina Hamilton, was really specific on what she could buy. Anyway, that's not much to go on, but I really have a feeling it was her."

"That's a lot to go on, actually," John says. "That's…well it's got to be motive, right Sherlock?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "Motive would be a reason for her to steal them. Have you had problems with her before?"

Jenna shakes her head and bites her lip. "No, she's always been pretty nice to me, but speaking of motive, I know her mum was just laid off and her dad hasn't been in the picture for a while. And she was saying she could buy things like shoes and clothes for her sisters. What do you think of that?"

"I think that's a reason to steal some pricey earrings," Sherlock says, standing. "We'll keep in touch, Jenna. I promise to have your earrings before seven days."

She follows him up. "You mean it, Sherlock?"

"I certainly hope so," Sherlock says, slipping on his coat.

"Oh, thank you!" Jenna cries, going around the table and throwing her arms around him.

"Oh…" he mutters.

John laughs. "See you around, Jenna."

Jenna lets Sherlock go and politely hugs John, then tells them goodbye as they leave.

* * *

"So," John starts as they're walking down the street. "What'd'ya think?"

"I think I need to talk to Christina before I make any accusations," Sherlock tells him.

"But…Jenna said—"

"I know what Jenna said, John. But I can't just go around accusing someone because of hearsay. I need evidence, I need facts. And I need you to talk to Christina."

"Me? Why me?"

"What, like I can easily approach anyone and have a nice conversation?" Sherlock sarcastically asks. "I need you to talk to her about…I don't know, pretend to notice her shoes or something. Ask if they're new. Get her to talk about money."

John nods. "Alright. I'll do it tomorrow during first period."

Sherlock smiles and slings an arm around John's shoulders. "This is fun, isn't it?"

John wraps his arm around Sherlock's waist. "It definitely is, love."

* * *

At home, Sherlock tells Clement about meeting Jenna. He tells his dad about the case, and Clement agrees with John that it sounds like Christina did it.

"We don't know that," Sherlock tells him. "I just need—"

"More facts, I know," Clement says, picking up his plate to talk to the kitchen. "I'm proud of you, son." He steps around the table behind Sherlock and kisses his head.

Sherlock scowls and attempts to wipe the kiss away like a toddler.

John beams at him.

Clement disappears into the kitchen and John's smile fades.

"Tell your dad about the other emails."

"No," Sherlock simply states, already knowing that John was going to say that.

"Do it or I will, I still have them."

"I don't care, John. Telling my dad about anonymous emails isn't going to solve anything."

"At least he'll know. He said to tell him if anything happens."

"Nothing is _happening, _John."

"Tell him."

Sherlock glares at him. "No."

John glares back. "Do it or I will."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I suggest you two stop fighting and tell me what you don't want me to hear!" Clement calls from the kitchen.

John sits back and smugly smiles.

Sherlock sticks his tongue out at him.

Clement appears out of nowhere, it seems, and flicks Sherlock in the head.

"Ow!" Sherlock cries.

Clement takes his seat at the table once again. "Now, what is it you need to share?"

John takes the phone out and opens up the emails before Sherlock can lie. "Sherlock's received a bunch of bullying emails on the new work email he set up. I changed the password so he can't see them, but…" John passes the phone over to Clement.

Clement's eyes grow wide as he scrolls. "Son…"

"It's fine, Dad."

"To hell it's fine," John retorts.

"John's right, son. This is not ok. I'm going to the school tomorrow to complain."

"And what are they going to do?"

"Find who's been doing this."

"They stopped once school let out," John tells him. "So, the emails came from our school's wifi server. They could surely track them, right?"

"Probably," Clement agrees. "Excellent idea, John."

Sherlock glares at him.

"I'll figure this out, ok son?"

Sherlock slowly shifts his gaze to his father. "Ok, Dad."

"Good. Now," Clement stands from the table again. "I've got to go to the grocery store. I'm sure you don't care to join, so I'll be back in a while. John, eight o'clock, alright?"

John nods. "Yes, sir."

Clement smiles at both of the boys, then leaves the room.

Once Clement is out of the house, they boys race up to Sherlock's bedroom.

"Just over an hour," John says, grabbing Sherlock by the hips and pulling the taller boy to him. "What could we do for an hour?"

"I have a few ideas, but I'm sure they're not the same ideas you have."

John chuckles. "I doubt it." He pulls Sherlock closer and kisses him lightly.

Sherlock pulls John over to his bed and sits him on the edge. He sits close, his hip mashed against John's, and pulls John in for dizzying kiss after kiss.

"I've wanted nothing more than to be close to you since Saturday, Sherlock."

Sherlock hums against John's neck.

John's hands begin to roam Sherlock's body, one tracing up his thigh and one rubbing his back. Sherlock kisses John neck, making John's breathing uneven and causing him to moan more than once.

They kiss and touch for minutes until finally John is ready to push Sherlock over and take his trousers off. He reaches for the button, but as he's about to undo his jeans, Sherlock jumps up with a pained grunt.

"What?" John frantically questions. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I just—"

"It's not you, John. It's the case."

"The case?"

"I can't stop thinking about it, John. My brain…it won't shut off. What if I can't find them, John? I can't disappoint Jenna, she's my first client, she's trusting me, she's—"

John stands and grabs Sherlock's arms. "Sherlock, relax," he soothes. "Jenna knows there's not a one hundred percent guarantee that you can find them."

"But John," Sherlock sighs, "I promised…"

John sideways smiles at him. "God, you're cute. I know you did, love, but she knows. We don't have to do anything," he motions to Sherlock's bed, "But I do just…I want to be near you. Is that ok?"

Sherlock slowly nods. "It might help."

John smiles and takes his hand. "Come on, I have an idea."

* * *

They go downstairs into the great sitting room. John gets a blanket and lays it on the floor in front of the fireplace that Clement left burning.

"Come here," he instructs, laying on the floor. He arranges Sherlock next to him so he can cradle Sherlock close. "How's this?"

Sherlock snuggles deep into John's arms. "Perfect."

John doesn't say anything more, just begins to rub Sherlock's head in a soothing way.

* * *

Clement returns before eight. The house is quiet and dark, and he quickly grows angry thinking the boys are up in Sherlock's bedroom.

He's about to call for them, but then he spots them on the floor of the sitting room, John holding Sherlock close as they lightly snore in front of the fire.

He can't help but smile, the sight warming his heart. "Alright, John," he whispers, grabbing another blanket to throw on top of them. "One more hour, that's it."

Clement ends up letting them stay on the floor nearly all night, only waking them before midnight. He lets John sleep in the spare bedroom next to Sherlock's, and John is pleased to be sleeping that close to Sherlock.

Both boys easily fall asleep after Clement moves them, both happy to still be close enough to one another.


	7. Chapter 7: Closed

The next morning, their first period teacher is gone so they have a substitute. He allows the kids to work in groups, so there's chatter around the class.

Sherlock sits alone in the corner, like he usually does, and John sits with all of his friends at a different table. Christina, their main suspect, is in the group. Sherlock sends John a text to remind him to talk to Christina, and John glares at him as soon as he reads it.

John does as instructed, though.

"Say, Christina," he gets her attention. "Is that a new coat?"

Christina nods. "It is, actually. An early Christmas gift from my mum."

"How nice," John says. "Looks expensive."

"Yeah, but…" Christina is obviously embarrassed by the observation.

John wants to make her feel comfortable again. "My mum's a single parent too, you know? Where does your mum work?"

Christina visibly loosens up. "Uhm, she just got a job as a receptionist at a clinic."

"Oh, really? That's neat." John looks around at their friends and takes a deep breath. "Kind of difficult to look at everyone's cool clothes and stuff when your mum can't afford much for you, huh?"

Christina looks at their friends, too. "Yeah, I guess."

"I try to help out, but sometimes I can't do much. You're the oldest, right? You probably know how it feels."

Christina bites her lip.

"Sorry, just hard to talk to people about this stuff when they don't understand. You know?"

Christina nods.

"One time," John says, quieter, "When I was about thirteen, I stole a watch from a kid to sell for some cash. My mum was able to make a house payment with it." It's a lie, but Christina is engrossed in his story. "You ever done anything like that?"

Christina bites her lip, and if John knew any better he'd say she looked guilty. "I guess once or twice…" she says, "I've stolen some food. Like candy and stuff, for my sisters."

John nods in understanding. "No big deal, you know? You gotta do what you gotta do."

Christina nods.

"Anything bigger? Man, I'm feeling bad about my confession."

She chuckles. "No, nothing bigger. But don't feel bad, John. I understand."

He smiles. "Thanks, Christina."

She leans over and hugs him quickly, then lets go when someone else asks for her attention.

* * *

"It wasn't her," John says as he and Sherlock walk to second period.

"How do you know?"

"I just know, Sherlock. She would have told me."

"You don't know that, John. She could be lying, she could be—"

"Look," John says, turning to Sherlock. "Her and I are a lot alike, ok? I told her a story about having to steal to pay bills for my mum, which, yes it was a lie, but she would have opened up afterwards. I just know she didn't do it, Sherlock. Alright?"

Sherlock disappointedly nods. "I guess I'd better tell Jenna."

"The case isn't closed yet, right? There's got to be more."

Sherlock nods again, then follows John down the hall.

* * *

They Skype with Jenna later that evening.

"Is wasn't her?" Jenna asks as disappointed as Sherlock was.

"Right," John tells her.

"Is there anything, absolutely anything else you remember?" Sherlock asks. "Did anyone agree with what Christina was saying?"

"Well, Christina kind of said it just to _me, _but my best friend Amy was sitting right next to me."

John and Sherlock look at each other.

"Oh man," Jenna says. "It was Amy, wasn't it?"

"Would Amy have any reason to steal your earrings?" Sherlock asks. "Family problems? Problems with you?"

Jenna shrugs. "I guess she's always kind of jealous of me, you know? She always borrows my clothes, but she usually gives them back."

"Usually?"

"Oh, like she's borrowed a shirt and has 'forgotten' to return it. I don't mind because she's my best friend, you know? I mean, I'm sure you two would do the same for each other."

John nods.

Sherlock shakes his head.

John's jaw drops as he looks down at Sherlock.

Jenna laughs at them.

Sherlock waves John away. "So, Amy, then? Was anybody else involved?"

Jenna shakes her head.

"You said they were in your locker," John starts, "Does anyone besides you have your combination?"

Jenna taps her chin in thought. "Well, about a month ago I gave it to Harvey Lucas because he needed to get some books from me. And at the beginning of school I gave it to Beverly Bryant because I was afraid I'd forget it. I thought I could trust her."

"So, Harvey and Beverly. Amy doesn't have it?"

Jenna shakes her head. "That doesn't mean she couldn't ask Bev for it, though, right? She's my other best friend, she wouldn't ask Amy why she needed it."

John and Sherlock nod in understanding.

"This is all very useful, Jenna," John tells her.

Jenna nods.

They tell Jenna they're doing their best, and hang up shortly after.

"So, Amy?"

"Yes," Sherlock replies. "She's in our math class, right?"

"Yeah, but so is Jenna."

Sherlock nods. "Can you talk to her at lunch?"

John sighs.

"You know what?" Sherlock changes his mind. "I'll talk to her. I'll solve this case a week earlier than I promised."

"You'll talk to her? And say what?"

Sherlock evilly grins. "I have an idea."

* * *

The very next morning, before school starts, Sherlock goes right on up to Amy to talk.

"Amy," he stammers out. "I was, uh, wondering if you have the notes from history class two weeks ago."

Amy stares at him. "Why? Doesn't John have them?"

"John and I had a row," he lies. "Anyway, I really need those notes."

Amy nods and rummages around her locker. Sherlock peeks inside, but the earrings aren't there.

"What was the class about? The Friday after last?" he curiously asks.

"I don't know," she annoyedly says. "It was a long time ago. I think we talked about the French Revolution, or something."

Sherlock knows that's not it, but he goes with it. "Oh, like what?"

"Oh, like how and why it started," she says, opening up a notebook and looking through it.

"What else?"

"Uh," she finds the page she needs and begins to read it, "It was between 1789 and 1799,.." she goes on about the facts she'd written from their lecture.

"Uh huh," he says as she's really stuck on her reading, "And did you steal Jenna's blue butterfly earrings?"

She doesn't stop gazing at her paper, still reading. "Yeah, but I gave them to Beverly."

Sherlock grins and turns to walk away.

"Hey!" she yells at him. "You tricked me!"

He waves back at her and continues walking down the hall.

He tells Jenna what he learned as soon as he can, and by their math class, Jenna and Amy are seated apart and glaring at each other.

* * *

Later, Jenna tells both of them that she confronted Amy and Beverly. She begins to cry as she tells them, so John comfortingly hugs her and rubs her back. It doesn't bother Sherlock, he knows Jenna is very upset.

"They said…" Jenna sniffles, "Something about needing to teach me a lesson, or something? I don't know, it was all really sad. They said I needed to learn what it's like to lose something. My dad gave those to me, and they sold them."

Sherlock coughs, clearing his throat. "I'm…sorry."

John glances at him.

Jenna pulls away. "It's ok, Sherlock. It's not your fault. And you solved it."

"Still," John says, rubbing her arm. "We're sorry."

Jenna wipes her eyes. "Thanks. I just hope my dad isn't too upset."

"Tell him everything," Sherlock advises. "He can't be upset that two mean girls stole them."

She nods. "You're right," she says, looking at him. Suddenly, she hugs him tight. This time, he hugs back. "Thank you, Sherlock. I knew I could count on you."

Sherlock cracks a smile. "You're welcome, Jenna."

Jenna pulls away and grabs her purse. "Here, let me…" she takes out her wallet and gets a few bills.

Sherlock waves her away. "No, no," he says. "I can't."

"Please," she says, "You solved it."

"I didn't even get them back," Sherlock tells her.

"Well, I owe you somehow."

"If anyone has any problems like yours, just tell them to come to me."

Jenna nods again and smiles. "Thanks, Sherlock. Really, thank you. And you, John."

John and Sherlock both smile at her, then they leave the school to go back to Sherlock's house.

* * *

After dinner, they're up in Sherlock's room laying next to each other, both ignoring each other for their laptops.

It's been bothering Sherlock all evening how physical John is with other people. Sure, John hugs him, but he doesn't like the way he feels when John hugs someone else. So he decides he needs to ask about it.

"John," he says.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you…" Sherlock pauses and thinks about changing his mind.

"Why do I what?"

"Uhm, why do you hug other people?"

John looks up from his laptop. "What do you mean?"

"Like…yesterday you hugged Christina, and today you hugged Jenna a lot."

"Jenna was hurt," he say, "I hug you when you're hurt."

"I know, but—"

"Remember that time I accidentally shot you with a pellet gun? I hugged you afterwards for, like, an hour."

"Yeah, but you like me."

"I didn't like you _that _much when we were eleven."

Sherlock chuckles.

"Is that what this is about?" John asks, sitting up. "You think I like Jenna?"

Sherlock moves his laptop to give John his full attention. "I don't know, John. I just…I felt jealous, ok? Jealous that Jenna was hugging you."

John moves up the bed to kneel next to Sherlock. "I don't, Sherlock. I promise; I've never liked anyone besides you. Even before I realized I like you I didn't like anyone. Ok?"

Sherlock nods. "Ok, John. I believe you."

"Good," John says, leaning forward and cradling Sherlock's chin. "I love you."

"I love you too," Sherlock says, closing the gap and kissing John.

Their kiss quickly turns heated, and John tries to pull Sherlock so Sherlock will (hopefully) push John onto the bed.

But Sherlock pulls away before he can. "My dad's coming!" he whispers, pushing John away from him.

The bed's quite large, but John is caught off guard and falls so far back that he falls of the bed. He lands with a loud thump as Sherlock grabs his computer and covers his lap with it.

In seconds, Clement throws the door open. He takes one glance at John and begins to laugh. "What happened here?"

John sits up and glares at Sherlock. "He pushed me."

"Sherlock," Clement pretends to scold. "Play nice."

Sherlock just smiles at John and his dad.

"Twenty minutes, ok, John? It's nearly midnight!" Clement exclaims, turning to leave the room. "Door stay's open."

"Ok!" the boys call.

John stands and kneels back on the bed. He grabs a pillow and hits Sherlock with it. "Wanker."

Sherlock throws the pillow back and grins.

Twenty minutes later, John leaves, but not before telling Sherlock how proud he is and how much he loves him. Sherlock just smiles, knowing John absolutely means everything he's saying.

Sherlock falls asleep that night with a very happy smile on his face.


	8. Chapter 8: Confession

**_A/N: (PLEASE READ!) I'm providing a straightforward warning in saying that John's mother gets a little physical with him. Since it's John's POV the description relies on his feeling. It's only a few lines and also a bit of implied past experiences of similar situations. I've never written anything quite like this, I wasn't sure how to warn it so I just thought I'd fess up from the start. Sorry if anyone doesn't like it. _**

**_Oh and this chapter also has a warning for sexytimes. Thanks, please review!_**

* * *

With only a few weeks left until Christmas, John's mother takes Saturday off work so they can go shopping and set up their decorations. Harry's back and sticks around to help, all the while acting oddly towards John.

They have a pleasant day, he's very happy being able to spend time with his mother, but it bothers him all day the way Harry is acting.

He finally decides to confront her after the family dinner they have.

"Why are you acting so weird towards me?" John asks when their mother finally leaves the room. "I should be acting weird towards you! You hurt me!"

"You kissed Clara, John!"

"I did not! She kissed me! Why would you even think I kissed her when you know I have Sherlock?"

"I saw everything!" Harry yells.

"Then you saw her kiss me!"

"I don't know how you feel, John," she tells him. "You're not even really gay. How do I know you didn't like it? How do I know you don't like her?"

John's never really put any thought into if he's gay or not. He knows he really has never liked anyone besides Sherlock, but he has appreciated the beauty of any gender of person. He still doesn't appreciate that Harry says he _isn't really gay_, as if Sherlock is some sort of experiment.

"Because I love Sherlock, Harry! That's how I know I don't like her!"

He doesn't hear anyone behind him before his mother's voice sternly ask, "What do you mean you love him, John?"

Harry's eyes grow wide and she steps back, and John slowly turns around.

"Uhm…"

"You'd better not mean that you _love_ him, John."

John licks his lips and stands up straighter. It's about time his mother learns of his six month relationship with another boy. "I mean I _love_ him, Mother. We've been dating for about six months, but we've been—"

Dawn, John's mother, shakes her head slowly. "You're confused, son. You don't know what love even means, and you certainly don't know what it means to love another boy!"

John quickly grows upset. His mother's voice is harsh, like a voice she's never used with him, and the words she's saying aren't nice to him. "Oh, like you're an expert on love?" he sarcastically questions, his voice raised slightly.

"John!" she cries. "Don't you dare—"

"Because you were an expert on love when you met Dad? When you had Harry and I? You were an expert through our entire childhood? And when Dad came home from the pub that night and—"

Suddenly, his cheek stings. He gasps and grabs his face, and gasps again when it stings more.

"John…" Dawn softly says.

Harry cries somewhere in the corner, but she seems far away. John can't even turn his head to look at her, to make sure she's ok like he would when they were younger.

When he finally gathers his thoughts, he grows so angry that he wants to hit back, but he doesn't. He knows he can't hit his mother.

"John, I'm—"

"Shut up," John says, nearly in a whisper. "Just shut up."

Dawn looks angry again. "Don't—"

"You don't, Mother!" John yells at her. He steps towards her and she moves out of his way. "I can't be here if I'm going to be hit for loving who I love, if I'm going to be hit anymore at all!" he yells, heading for the door.

"John, don't you dare walk out that door!"

John throws his coat on and pulls the front door open.

"John! I'm warning you!"

John steps out the door and slams it shut.

He knows he needs to get to Sherlock's house. It's not that late, but he knows Sherlock didn't sleep the night before, which means Sherlock's probably asleep now. But Clement wouldn't deny him a place to sleep.

He fiddles with the key and gets into the house, leaning against the front door as soon as he gets in.

"John?" Clement calls from somewhere in the house. "Is that you?"

John can't speak to answer, he just cries into his arm.

"Oh, John…" Clement sighs, going to him. He places his hands on John's shoulders and lifts his chin. "Oh…" he repeats, touching John's red cheek.

"My mum knows," John says, still crying. "I told her about Sherlock and I. And she—"

"She hit you?" Clement angrily asks.

"Not because of that," John says, sniffling. "I told her she's no expert on love because of my dad…and then she…"

Clement wraps his arms around John before John begins to cry harder.

"I don't want her to hate me," John cries into Clements shoulder.

"She won't, John. She never could."

"I just love him so much," John says between sniffles. "I can't not…"

"I know, John," Clement says. "I've always know, even when you two were little boys. He told me he loved you once."

John pulls away and wipes his eyes. "He did?"

Clement nods and smiles. "When you were seven, he asked if it was okay to love you. And of course it is, John. It's perfectly alright to love you and for you to love him. I've never loved either of you less, and neither will your mother."

John sniffles and nods. He looks into Clement's face and asks, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Sure," Clement says. "Of course."

John nods and hugs him again, then heads for the sitting room. "I'll go to sleep now, if that's ok. I know where the blankets are."

"John," Clement stops him. "I, uhm…we've got some people coming early in the morning," he says. "We're looking to remodel the sitting room."

"Oh," John disappointedly sighs. He knows Sherlock's aunt is staying in the guest room, so he wouldn't even be able to sleep there. "I guess I'll just go—"

"Maybe for the night, it'd be ok for you to…to sleep up in Sherlock's bedroom."

John's eyes grow wide and he looks at Clement in awe. "Really?"

"Yeah, you know, because the people coming in the morning."

"Thank you, sir," John says.

"Hey," Clement grasps his shoulder. "I'm inconveniencing you."

John smiles and wipes his eyes. "Ok. Goodnight, then."

Clement ruffles his hair, then John leaves his side.

* * *

John gets up to Sherlock's bedroom and quietly shuts the door. He takes off his jacket and jeans, then climbs into Sherlock's bed.

"Mmm?" Sherlock sighs, turning over to shift towards the extra weight in the bed.

"Hey love," John whispers.

Sherlock blinks awake. "Hmm?"

"I had a fight with my mum," John explains. "Your dad said I could sleep with you."

"Mmm," Sherlock contently sighs, wrapping his arms and legs around John and pulling him close.

John chuckles and hugs Sherlock tight. "Goodnight, baby."

Sherlock kisses his cheek and quickly falls back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, John wakes up with Sherlock literally on top of him. He thinks Sherlock is awake, that this is like the first time they _got together_, but he hears Sherlock's gentle snores in seconds.

John laughs. "Sherlock!" he whispers, patting Sherlock's hip. "Get off."

Sherlock doesn't budge, and his breathing doesn't change.

"Sherlock!" John tries again.

Again, Sherlock doesn't move, so John heaves him off. He tosses Sherlock aside and takes a deep breath.

John finally looks over at Sherlock and longs to kiss him awake, to delicately touch his pale skin, to taste every bit of him that he can; but he knows Clement is home. Instead, he leans over and lightly kisses Sherlock's neck, then slips out of bed and gets his jeans on.

He goes downstairs to eat breakfast with Clement. It's quite early, barely eight, and there aren't any extra people in the house.

"I thought, uhm," John waves in the direction of the sitting room as he enters the kitchen. "Something about remodeling the sitting room."

"I may have fibbed a bit," Clement tells him. "Coffee?"

John smiles and takes the cup.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine. I woke up suffocating, though. He was right on top of me."

Clement laughs. "He used to do that to Mycroft."

John smiles, thinking about how cute that would be.

"Well," Clement says. "I've got to go to Rebecca's office for a bit, you stay as long as you need."

"Thanks," John says.

"Ramona is gone, so could you make Sherlock eat as soon as he wakes up?"

"Of course," John says.

Clement smiles. "Great. And John?"

John curiously looks up.

"Everything will be alright with your mother. I can guarantee it."

John takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

Clement hugs him tight, then leaves.

John practically runs up to Sherlock's bedroom as soon as he hears Clement's car exit the garage. He sheds all of his clothes as quickly as he can and climbs back into the bed.

"Sherlock? Wake up, babe," he begs. "Please wake up."

Sherlock stirs. "Hmm?"

"Wake up, please," John tries, kissing Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and moves to sit up. He opens his eyes and looks at John. "Are you naked?" he groggily asks.

"Your dad just left," John explains. "He said he had to run to the office."

"Oh," Sherlock replies, placing a hand on John's cheek.

John winces, but ignores the sting leftover from last night. He leans in and kisses Sherlock instead, and in minutes he's pulling at Sherlock's pajama bottoms.

"Are you ok?" John asks before beginning to undress Sherlock.

"Yeah," Sherlock whispers.

John sits up on his heels and pulls Sherlock pajama pants down, and his underpants slip down, too. Sherlock blushes.

John smiles. "You ok?"

"It's just that…" Sherlock starts. "Uhm, last time we weren't completely…"

"Completely naked?"

Sherlock nods.

John chuckles. "Sherlock, I've seen you naked before. Remember when we were six and got all dirty outside? Your dad wouldn't let us come in with our clothes on?"

Sherlock laughs.

"Or when we were ten and you spilled acid on your jeans? I've never seen someone strip so quickly."

Sherlock laughs again.

"Of when we were thirteen and—"

"Alright!" Sherlock cries. "Get on with it, then!"

John smiles and leans over to kiss him again, then removes his pajama pants and underpants.

John groans as he runs his fingertips down Sherlock's erection. Clear fluid sticks to his fingertips and he licks it off his fingers.

"How does it taste?" Sherlock curiously asks.

"Delicious," John replies, leaning down to lick the head of Sherlock's cock.

Sherlock moans and throws his head back.

John kisses up to Sherlock's neck as he strokes Sherlock slowly. Sherlock moans and John licks at his throat, sucking on certain spots to make Sherlock's hips buck.

John strokes and strokes, Sherlock whispering that he's about to come any second. John finally feels him about to, so he shifts down to take just the head of Sherlock's cock in his mouth, then Sherlock comes with a deep groan into John's mouth.

John pulls off and licks his lips. "Oh, that's good…" John sighs, sitting up on his heels again.

Sherlock takes many deep breathes and watches as John wraps a hand around his own erection. John slowly strokes, and Sherlock shifts down on the bed until his face is even to John's crotch. He then opens his mouth, and John grunts as he spills into Sherlock's open lips.

"Ahh, fuck…" John sighs as he begins to relax.

"Delicious," Sherlock mimics, sitting up on his knees and wrapping his arms around John's neck.

John rubs Sherlock's back and kisses his neck.

"I love you," Sherlock whispers into John's hair.

"I love you too."

They hug for many minutes, but finally decide to wash up and get back into bed. They leave the door open so that Clement isn't too upset when he gets home, but by the time he gets there, the boys are sitting up in bed; Sherlock is reading and John is on Sherlock's laptop.

Clement makes them a late breakfast, and they finally leave the room to eat. Over their meal, John tells Sherlock everything that happened the night before.

Sherlock grows very angry. He's upset with John's mother for saying those things to John, and even more upset that Dawn slapped him.

Clement rubs Sherlock's shoulders. "Relax, son," he leans down and whispers into Sherlock's hair.

"I won't relax, Dad!" Sherlock shouts, throwing his fork down. "This is crap!"

Clement lets Sherlock go and John grabs his hand. "It's ok, Sherlock. It's not your problem, alright. I'm fine. It'll be fine."

"It is my problem, John. You always get so upset when kids at school are mean to me. Don't you understand how upset I am?"

John nods. "I do, Sherlock. I understand. And I'm telling you I'm fine."

Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"It's fine."

Sherlock nods.

John kisses his cheek, then directs his attention back to his food.

* * *

Clement lets John stay with them all day, but John leaves around dinnertime when he knows his mother will be home. Harry is gone when he arrives, and his mother arrives minutes after he does.

"We need to talk, John," Dawn says as she enters the kitchen.

John's sitting at the island with a bowl of leftover spaghetti. "I know."

First, Dawn hugs him. "I am so sorry for hitting you, John. I know I shouldn't have, I truthfully know that and I am sorry."

John nods. "I know, Mum."

She pulls away and looks angry once again. "But I do not appreciate the way you were speaking to me, young man."

"I know…"

"If you and Sherlock are going to be…" Dawn takes a deep breath. "Together…then I suppose I need to be alright with that."

John looks up at her face. "Really?"

"I do want what's best for you, John."

John nods.

"But that doesn't excuse your actions yesterday. I'm grounding you for a week. That means no phone and only going to school and back."

John sighs. "Yes, Mother."

"But I'm also grounding myself," Dawn says. "I'll be here with you as much as I can. If all goes as planned, I'll be here to make you dinner every night."

John perks up. "Really, Mum?"

She rubs his shoulder. "Yes. I need to make it up to you. I'm so sorry, John."

John lunges forward and hugs her.

Dawn rubs his head and hugs back. "I love you so much, son."

"I love you too, Mum."

Dawn pulls away first, after long seconds. "So," she says. "Tell me how all of that happened."

John blushes. "No."

"Come on, John. I don't get any entertainment! How'd you ask him out?"

John shakes his head. "No, no, no."

"Did he ask you?"

John groans and buries his face in his arms.

Dawn kisses his head as she moves around the island. "I'm going to keep asking until you tell me."

John just just laughs and shakes his head.

"I should have known since you were kids," Dawn tells him. "Ever since the day you met him, I should have known. He was _so amazing_ and _so interesting _and _so smart_ and _so beautiful_."

"Oh god," John mutters, blushing again.

"Your words, son! '_Mum,'_" she mimics a little boy's voice, "'_He's so pretty, Mum. His hair is so fluffy and his eyes are so blue!' _I should have known."

Even though she keeps asking, John keeps denying giving her any information, and he ends up going to bed without saying anything more. He's glad his mother forgave him for shouting and for his relationship, and he knows in time he can forgive her for what she did.


	9. Chapter 9: Skype

_**A/N: Hello all! Thanks for the reviews last chapter, I was really nervous but I'm glad everyone thought it turned out ok. More fluff and case-ish things to come, and I hope I do a well enough job on that. Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review! **_

* * *

Dawn takes John's phone away that evening, and she tells him he can't go to Sherlock's house at all, so John doesn't see Sherlock until the next day at school.

"Where were you last night?" Sherlock asks instead of a greeting.

"Grounded," John answers, shutting his locker and turning to Sherlock. "No phone for a week."

Sherlock looks in disbelief. "For what? For what she did to you?"

"No, for shouting and for what I said to her."

"So…grounded from what? Your phone, that's it?"

John shakes his head. "I can't hang out with you for a week."

Sherlock groans.

"Only a week," John tries. "She didn't take my laptop away though, so we can Skype."

Sherlock sighs.

John pats his shoulder. "The week will fly by."

* * *

Sherlock's already tired of the grounding before the day ends. Often times during the day he'll text John little reminders for himself, like _'Clear the dirt from the downstairs loo sink.'_ or _'Buy more rubbing alcohol.'_. He sends them to John because he can count on John to remind him of these things.

And it's entirely too inconvenient that John doesn't have a phone. Instead he sends John emails, but he always likes getting the messages in reply that say things like _'Why is there dirt in the sink?' _or _'You just bought rubbing alcohol like a week ago, what do you do with it? You know you're not supposed to drink it, right?'_

Sherlock is a moping mess by the time they're walking home from school. He clings to John as if he's never going to see John again, while John tells Sherlock about his mother saying she's ok with their relationship. Sherlock still sulks, and John has to tell him he'll be fine.

"You'll be fine. By Sunday I'll be able to go over again."

"That's _so _far away!"

John laughs. "You never give me this much attention when you actually get to see me."

Sherlock throws his arms around John's shoulders and buries his nose in John's hair.

John laughs harder. "Stop, stop! You're fine."

They arrive in front of Sherlock's house and stand facing each other, their hands linked between them.

"I'll see you later," John says. "Get on Skype at eight, ok?"

Sherlock nods.

"We can watch a movie," John says.

Sherlock nods again.

John rubs his arms. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

John leans up and kisses Sherlock lightly and slowly.

"See you at eight."

Sherlock nods. "See you."

John kisses him one more time, then turns down the street to leave.

* * *

Sherlock gets into the house and unhappily hangs his coat at the door. He wanders into the kitchen for a soothing cup of tea he very much needs, and sees his dad already making one.

"John's leaving?"

Sherlock nods and goes to the refrigerator. "He's grounded."

"For?"

"For shouting at his mother."

Clement nods. "But…did they talk?"

Sherlock nods and turns to his dad, taking the offered tea cup. "He said they talked and she said she's alright with he and I. John said it's alright now, whatever that means."

"Well, that's great," Clement says. "Right?"

Sherlock nods. "Of course."

Clement steps forward and takes Sherlock in a hug. "I'll always love you no matter what, Sherlock. You know that, right?"

Sherlock hugs back, which he rarely does without being told to. He takes a deep, relaxing breath, then says, "But you love me more than you love Mycroft, right?"

Clement laughs and lets him go. "I can not answer that question."

Sherlock grins and takes his phone out. "That's a yes."

"Who are you calling if John's grounded?"

Sherlock's smile grows. "Myc? Dad just said he loves me more than he love you!"

Clement darts at him, but Sherlock runs away. Clement throws a dish rag at him and Sherlock laughs as he runs up the stairs.

* * *

At eight, John says goodnight to his mother and races upstairs to his computer. He quickly logs in to Skype and waits, but Sherlock doesn't appear online. John frowns, wondering if Sherlock forgot.

John decides to waste time waiting for Sherlock, so he checks his email and all of his social networking sites. He quickly grows bored, then remembers to check Sherlock's new work email.

He smiles widely when he sees there are three emails from real addresses (but frowns when he sees ten from anonymous emails).

He opens the first one and reads:

**From harvluc **_Hey Sherlock, it's Harvey Lucas from school. Jenna told me about how you found her earrings last week and I was wondering if you could help me out. My favorite pair of sneakers have been stolen. I know, weird right? I have no idea who could have taken them, and it's kind of fucked because they're a shitty pair of Chuck Taylors. Sorry for my language, I'm wound up now. Give me a call if you are interested in helping._

John laughs at Harvey's language. He doesn't really find this case extremely interesting, so he moves on to the next email.

**From lilyfox2013 **_Sherlock Holmes! I know haven't spoken since like primary school but I need your help! Someone keeps sending me threatening emails and I don't know who. They happen at school, and they're very creepy. I've told the school but they've said they can't do anything about it because they're anonymous. This is a stretch, but I'd appreciate your help. Thanks! xoxo Lily_

John saves that one, thinking he can kill two birds with one stone and just look into getting Sherlock's emails checked out while they get Lily's looked into.

The last is from an email he wouldn't expect; it's from Vince's best friend Perry. John thinks about not even opening it up, but the subject says _Help! _so he does.

**From pwolf5 **_I really need your help, man. Today I was kicked off the lacrosse team because I was caught cheating. The thing is, I wasn't cheating. Then, at least. Sure I have before, but I've never been caught, which is how I'm absolutely positive I didn't cheat. I don't know how, but someone else had the same exact research paper as me. I know I wrote my paper, and they won't even tell me who mine matched. Anyway, I just really want to be back on the team but nobody will give me a chance. I need your help finding out who stole my paper. If you can help, find me at 3:40 Tuesday afternoon in the library. Thanks man. –Perry Wolf_

John taps his chin as he's reading, and he doesn't even notice the Skype ringtone through the computer until he's finished with the email.

He answers the call, but continues thinking.

"What?" Sherlock asks. "What are you reading? Did we get another email?"

"Three, as a matter of fact."

Sherlock grins. "Excellent."

John forwards the emails to him one by one so they can discuss while Sherlock's mind is focused on only the one they're discussing.

He starts with Lily's. They talk about what John was thinking; looking into Sherlock's while they look into Lily's.

"I'm sure I could deduce who is doing this," Sherlock tells him.

"Yeah, but we can't go around accusing people if you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong."

John rolls his eyes. "Well, let me do this my way and ask someone to hack the network. She said they're at school, too."

Sherlock nods. "If you must."

John ignores him, intending to end the argument. "Alright, next," he says, then sends Sherlock Harvey's email.

"Oh," Sherlock says as he opens it up. "Harvey."

"Yep," John replies, rereading it.

"Why would someone steal a, quote '_shitty pair of Chuck Taylors_'?"

John laughs. "I don't know."

Sherlock leans forward and rests his hands in front of his face. "Well, I could very well take this one. Easy, like Jenna's."

"Sure," John says. "Now…here's the last one…"

Sherlock looks confused. "Why do you say it like that? Is it from Vince or something?"

"Uhm…" John clicks send on the forward and Sherlock's eyes grow wide as he receives it seconds later.

"Oh, it might as well be," Sherlock says. "Forget it, I don't want his."

"Just read it, Sherlock. It sounds genuine. He needs help."

Sherlock sighs. "Fine."

They're silent for a minute while Sherlock reads it. When he's done, his eyes flick back to John. "What do you think?"

John shrugs. "It's up to you, love."

Sherlock leans forward again. "Someone is bound to have had access to his paper before he turned it in. Perhaps a jump drive or an email?"

"Unless he just printed it as soon as he finished it."

"Why would he do that, not have a backup?"

"Because it's _Perry _and the paper was probably written well enough for him to squeeze by with a well enough grade to stay on the team another week."

"Very good, John." Sherlock pridefully says. "That's exactly what whoever stole it would think. If they were planning to cheat, that means they weren't determined enough to write their own, which means they aren't a very good student themselves. They'd take it from someone who matches their intelligence level, that being Perry their level is barely average enough to _squeeze by, _as you say. Who in that class matches Perry's intelligence level?"

"That'd be your old class, right? Who else was in that class?"

"Vince," Sherlock quickly answers.

"He'd be a guy to cheat from his best friend and not care enough that his best friend got in trouble."

"Yeah, but Vince is also on the lacrosse team, isn't he? Why would Perry be kicked off and Vince wasn't?"

"How do you know Vince wasn't?"

"I think even Perry is smart enough to see that if he was kicked off the team and his best friend was kicked off the team, it's pretty clear that his best friend stole his research paper."

John nods. "So? Gonna meet Perry tomorrow or not?"

"Yeah," Sherlock says. "Now I'm interested."

John smiles. "We're not watching a movie tonight, are we?"

"Well, we could watch a movie and I could not pay attention while I think, or I can call Harvey."

John laughs. "Alright, call Harvey. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sherlock smiles. "Ok. Tomorrow night I've got to spend the night at Mycroft's, so I don't know if we'll be able to Skype."

"Why do you have to spend the night at Mycroft's?"

Sherlock makes a disgusted face. "My parents are going out for their anniversary."

John nods in understanding. "Ok. See you at school then. I'll talk to Lily and tell her the plan, and I'll find someone who can hack the network."

"Excellent," Sherlock tells him. "See you soon."

"I love you!"

Sherlock pauses as he's about to end their call. "I love you too, John."

John smiles, blows a kiss, then hangs up.

* * *

Sherlock does call Harvey immediately after he hangs up with John.

"Hello?" Harvey skeptically answers.

"Harvey, it's Sherlock."

"Sherlock, my man! How's it goin'?"

"It's…fine," Sherlock uncomfortably answers. _This is why I text, _he thinks. "I got your email and I'm interested in taking your case."

"Brilliant!" Harvey enthusiastically replies. He goes on to repeat to Sherlock everything in the email, including the vulgar language.

Sherlock asks him the same questions that he'd asked Jenna; if anyone has problems with him, if anyone's ever said anything about expressing envy of the shoes.

"Nah man," Harvey says. "They're a ratty old pair, dude. Nobody's ever, like, asked where I've gotten 'em or anything. And I haven't seen anyone wear them at school, I thought of that."

"Well done," Sherlock sarcastically says. "If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. We'll talk at school."

"Thanks, man. I really owe you one!"

Sherlock says goodbye, then hangs up. He checks the clock and sees he was only on the phone with Harvey for a few minutes, and that he could try to Skype John back, but then he just as quickly thinks about Perry's case. So instead, he begins writing up a list of the kids in the class he was in. They're all suspects by now.

He falls asleep on his notebook not long after. Clement finds him and removes everything from his bed, including his shoes, then lets Sherlock sleep the whole night.


	10. Chapter 10: Harvey

_**A/N: Writing this story is more fun than I thought it'd be, and I hope everyone thinks it's fun to read. Reviews are always appreciated, of course, and I'm thankful for those that I receive. If anyone has any ideas of cases or crimes to solve (prompts, maybe?), that'd be really cool to hear. I need some inspiration for the cases to come after the ones Sherlock is taking on now. Anyway, enjoy! Please review!**_

* * *

__John is very excited to go to school the next day. He's been grounded less than two days, sure, but on a normal night he would've been at Sherlock's all night. They spend far too much time together to be apart, and their Skype session was not long enough.

He gets up on time to see his mother out, and he remembers that he'd better tell her about staying after school to meet Perry.

"So mum," he starts after she tells him she'll be home by five o'clock. "That reminds me that I'll be late after school."

"Why?"

He decides to lie, figuring she would make him go home right after school if she knew he was really going to be helping Sherlock. "I have to meet my lab partner right after school. In the library, so I'll still be at the school."

"Who is your partner?" she asks. John can tell she wants to know if it's Sherlock.

"Perry Wolf."

Dawn nods. "Well, I guess if you have to. Home right after, ok?"

John nods.

Dawn kisses his forehead, then leaves for work.

John quickly dresses to walk to school, knowing the exact time Sherlock would leave if he walks as well. And John is very pleased when he pauses at their joined corner down the street from the school and sees Sherlock walking down the street towards him.

* * *

Sherlock finally clicks send on his phone and closes out his text messenger (texting war with Mycroft, much more important than walking in a straight line. Though, the stupid bike rider should have _seen him first, _but he's the one who fell off his-). Sherlock finally looks up and sees John leaning against the street sign. His fond, sideways smile he's only ever given Sherlock; the way his body is relaxed, and Sherlock can tell he'd been tense until this moment; the way his eyebrows are perked up even though his eyes are squinted against the sun. Even the color of his golden hair is perfect.

Sherlock longs to run to him and hug him tight.

The memory of the summer after they became best friends flashes through his mind. John's parents had so evilly sent John on holiday to his grandparent's house for _five weeks. _Sherlock-prior to that time and until his growth spurt a few years ago-had never been so miserable.

"_Dad!" _he'd yelled as soon as he woke up and checked the calendar. "_We've got to go see John! He's back!"_

Clement quickly got Sherlock dressed, understanding how urgent this mission was, and held Sherlock's hand as they walked the four blocks to John.

"_I should have combed my hair again,_" Sherlock muttered as they walked down the street.

"_It looks perfectly fine, son._"

"_I should have brought a gift,_" Sherlock said after that.

_"Why would you bring a gift?_"

"_What if he brought me a gift? That's a bit rude, Daddy._"

Clement laughed. "_You can make it up to him._"

Sherlock took a deep breath as they rounded the corner leading to John's house. John's house was the third on the right, Sherlock remembered, and he quickly grew nervous; baby butterflies sprouted in his still-tiny belly.

As soon as John's house came into view, so did John. He was just as eager as his brunette companion, and he'd been waiting on the lawn since the sun came up. As soon as John spotted him, they ran towards each other and grasped each other so hard they fell onto the neighbor's lawn. A fit of giggles broke their hug, and they'd both fallen onto their backs to gaze at the sky. The neighbor was outside, told Clement to leave them, and they laid there recounting every event of the summer—day by day—until lunchtime.

Now, as then, Sherlock wants to tackle John to the ground and hug him tight. He never realizes how agonizing it is without John until one of them can't be around, and even though it's only been a day, he hates it.

But he doesn't run to John. He smoothly adjusts the bag on his back and walks calmly, as if seeing John isn't even that big a deal. He looks away, gazing at the sky (trying to decide if it'll start raining sooner rather than later), and finally looks back at John as he approaches.

"You're so bad at pretending you're too cool to be happy to see me," John says, a wide grin behind his accusation.

Sherlock looks down at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

John smiles wider, as if that's even possible, and grabs Sherlock's coat lapel to pull him in for a kiss. John thinks it's going to be one of his favorite little kisses, which _are _the best, but Sherlock surprises him by pressing as close to him as possible and shoving his tongue deep into John's mouth. He places both hands on John's neck and pulls him impossibly closer.

John's moan makes them both pause many seconds later. Sherlock pulls away and presses his forehead against John's.

John licks his lips and clears his throat. "Is that…" he chuckles, "…is that your phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Sherlock, at his usual loss of John's humor, pulls his coat apart and presses against John again. "Both," he mutters, diving in for another kiss.

John groans and grabs Sherlock's hips, mashing his own against Sherlock.

It takes far too long for them to remember they're on a street corner. Finally they do, and they reluctantly pull away. Sherlock closes his eyes and takes many deep breaths, and John rubs his eyes and thinks about something gross like that bloody nose he had a few weeks ago.

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbles once he's relaxed again.

John opens his eyes and smiles again. "Me too, babe."

"I just missed you and—"

"I know," John stops him.

They both take one more deep breath, then take hands to walk the little ways to school together.

* * *

John talks to Lily after first period, as they walk to second.

"So, Sherlock's been having this problem too," he says as they walk. "I'm going to find someone who can hack the network."

"I knew these stupid school emails was a bad idea," Lily tells John. "But I guess it's convenient we can only use them here, right? It narrows the, uh…" she waves her hands in a random direction, "The network to search."

"Yeah, maybe," he says. "Any idea of who could be doing this? Anyone you've got problems with?"

Lily shrugs, her curly brown hair bopping against her shoulder. "Oh, I don't know, John!"

John knows that the list of who could be threatening Lily is far and wide, from jealous girls to disgusting boys. Lily is one of the most beautiful girls in their school, even Sherlock has expressed how gorgeous she is. But Lily is really nice, and that's why John is so baffled. She's got a lot of friends and is really kind, and honestly John's a bit upset that someone's being mean to her.

"Well, do you think you can forward me the emails? That way I can get a sense of someone who's doing this while I'm searching for someone who can hack the network. Obviously the school isn't doing shit about cyber bullying."

Lily nods. "I can do that," she says. She takes John in a hug and whispers, "Thank you, John."

John frowns, practically feeling her relief that her problem is going to be solved.

"I'll do my best, ok?" he offers.

She nods as she pulls away, then follows her into their classroom.

John receives her emails during class, and they honestly make him sick. Them "being creepy", as she described them in her original email, is an understatement. They're obviously being sent by a boy, and if John had to pinpoint any group of boys, judging by the way they talk to girls, it'd be Vince and his friends. But he can't really assume, and he feels awful that Lily is receiving these. He can't even bring himself to read more than two. He hopes that when he finds who is doing this gets in some serious trouble, and he _really _hopes whoever is sending them stays the hell away from Lily.

John feels the need to walk her all the way to her third period class, all the way in a different building than his, to make sure she's safe.

"So, _creepy _was an understatement," John tells her.

Her pert little nose scrunches and she makes a pained face. "Oh, John…"

"Didn't you tell your parents about this?"

Lily shakes her head. "They, uh, they don't really listen to me much."

John rubs her arm. "Listen to me, ok? Here's my number. If anything comes up, and I really mean _anything, _you can call me. Seriously, Lily, even if you need someone to walk you home after school or sit with you at the library."

Lily takes the strip of paper with John's number. "This is really sweet and all, but why do you care so much, John?"

"I have a sister. And despite what everyone thinks I care for her a lot. And I just…" he shakes his head. "What I'd do if I found out someone was talking to her like this."

"John, I…" Lily sighs. "I'm afraid I don't…I don't feel…you know…_that way_…about…" she flicks her large green eyes to him.

"Oh…" he softly says. "Oh, no no no…"

She looks confused.

"No, Lily, I'm…Sherlock and I…we're…"

"Wait," she stops him. "You're gay?!"

He purses his lips. "Uhm, yeah, I…I guess technically…"

She sighs, smiling. "This is honestly a relief, John. You aren't creeping me out or anything, I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea. But it seems _I'm _getting the wrong idea. Oh god," he rubs her forehead. "This is embarrassing."

He laughs. "Don't worry about it. Just know that I really don't want to see you get hurt, ok? I'll do everything I can for this to be resolved."

Lily nods and hugs him again. He tightly hugs back, and he tells her again to use his number whenever she needs it, even if it's two in the morning and she's at a party. She thanks him many times, then he leaves her to go to his class.

* * *

Sherlock decides to talk to Harvey during lunch, so John decides to stay with him rather than eat lunch with Brady. Harvey and John both get a lunch and meet Sherlock on the front steps of the school, but Sherlock doesn't get a lunch. John convinces him to take the apple he'd gotten anyway, so Sherlock shoves it in his coat pocket as Harvey approaches.

"Bloody freezing out here, Holmes," Harvey says, sitting on the concrete hand rail on the stairs.

"Helps me think," Sherlock mutters. "Now, the shoes."

Harvey retells John everything he'd told Sherlock on the phone, which was everything in the email.

"So, were they taken from your gym class?"

Harvey shakes his head and takes a bite of his sandwich. "Nah, man," he says, mouth full. "I don't take gym anymore. They were taken from football practice."

"Someone on the team then, surely," John says.

Sherlock shakes his head. "If they were gone by the time Harvey returned to them, it couldn't have been anyone on the team. They were obviously practicing with him."

"I thought that too, little dude," Harvey tells John.

John scowls. Sure, Harvey's frame is an unusual eight inches taller than John's, and Harvey's a year older than them, but _little dude _is entirely unnecessary.

"Where did you leave them during practice?" Sherlock asks Harvey.

"In the locker room. I always leave them there. I don't have a locker in there, though, because I don't take gym, so I have to rely on leaving them in my bag on the bench."

Sherlock nods. "Did you do anything differently with them that day?"

Harvey taps his chin in thought. "You know what? I did. Yeah, it rained that day, right? So I'd been stepping in puddles and mud, so I had to leave my shoes on the floor under the bench. They were too dirty to put in my bag."

"So, easy to steal," John says.

"Could have been anyone," Sherlock adds.

"One more thing," Harvey says. "My practice, the day they were stolen, was the late six o'clock practice. And I know that day the other teams that had practice at six o'clock were the lacrosse and the track teams."

John and Sherlock look at each other.

"Easy to narrow down the list then," John says.

Sherlock nods in agreement.

"I'll get a list of each team by the end of school," John says.

"Are you going to be able to talk to Perry with me?"

John nods. "And I'm still trying to find someone who can help Lily's problem."

"What's going on with Lily?" Harvey curiously asks.

They ignore him.

"I still don't know why you insist on taking that case, John. You don't even know how it'll be resolved."

"You'd care more if you saw the emails she's been receiving."

"Emails?" Harvey asks.

Again, they ignore him.

"Where are you even going to find someone to hack the network, John? Is it possible to find out who's sending anonymous emails?"

"If there is a way to send anonymous emails, there's gotta be a way to find out."

Harvey tries again. "It _is _possible—"

"Like I said, John, what's going to happen if you find out who's been doing these things? You tell the school, 'hey, I got someone to hack the network so punish the bullies and not the kid who hacked the network—'"

John stands up straighter, getting as tall as he can and as much into Sherlock's personal space as he can. "Well, maybe if I had a little support from one of the cyber bullying victims, we'd be able to take this on together—"

"Uh, guys..."

Sherlock does the same, placing his hands on his hips and broadening his chest to seem bigger. "I keep telling you I don't care about—"

John steps forward, his chest bumping Sherlock's. "And I keep telling you that I _do_—"

"Dudes!" Harvey shouts, getting their attention. "Either make out or listen to me."

Sherlock and John blink, blush, and take a step back. They both turn to Harvey.

"I can hack the network," he tells them, taking his laptop out of his bag. "I do it all the time."

Sherlock and John glance at each other. Harvey is not anyone they'd have ever thought to be someone who could do more than kick a football and smoke behind the buildings between classes. They step over to Harvey and peer over his shoulder as he types away.

In seconds, he's in the school's email network. The network, every student knows, is a dumb idea. They're useless because every kid has their own personal email address anyway, but these emails allow them to use the wifi at school and allow teachers to assign online exams and assignments. It really is easier, but when this is happening, it's not such a good idea.

"What d'ya wanna know?" Harvey asks, taking a cigarette out of his pocket.

Sherlock looks down at Harvey's cigarette and John glares at Sherlock. Sherlock rolls his eyes and looks back at the computer screen.

"Uhm, can you get into Sherlock's work emails?"

"Sure," Harvey says, typing away. A second later, they've got Sherlock's emails in front of them. "I'm assuming these are them," he says, clicking on the anonymous emails.

"Can you decode the anonymous, uh…filter?" John asks.

Harvey nods and lights his cigarette. Sherlock looks at it and bites his lip. John smacks his arm.

Harvey types for longer minutes now, silently taking drags of his cigarette between new screens.

"K," Harvey mutters.

Sherlock lunges forward, suddenly 'curious'. He stops his face right next to Harvey's and inhales the smoke flowing from Harvey's cigarette.

"Looks like there's one from 'vhlax6'. Who's that?"

"VHLAX?"

The three boys are quiet, each trying to figure out what the letters mean, and suddenly Harvey claps his hands together.

"V H LAX. Lacrosse. Vince Hawkins lacrosse. He's number 6."

John and Sherlock both nod in agreement.

"Well, there's no surprise there," Sherlock says.

"That prick give you a hard time, Sherlock?" Harvey asks, continuing to type on the computer.

Sherlock nods.

"He used to beat me up when we were kids," Harvey tells him. "One day, I punched him right in the nose. I just got tired of it. He left me alone ever since."

"You're suggesting I punch him?" Sherlock asks.

Harvey shakes his head. "Nah man. Use your head."

Sherlock eyes him, unsure of what he means, but the bell ringing gets his attention.

"Let me look into the rest of these," Harvey says, packing his computer. "My match was cancelled this evening, so I'll be done with them by this evening. But if I don't call you, I'll hand over the list tomorrow."

"Thanks, Harvey," John says, shaking his hand.

Harvey puts his cigarette out and Sherlock stares at it longingly.

"See ya, little dudes," Harvey says, ruffling Sherlock's long hair.

Sherlock scowls and pushes his hair out of his eyes. John laughs and helps.

They stay on the steps a few minutes longer.

"That was pointless," Sherlock says.

"No, we learned of one of the bullies."

"They're probably all Vince."

John shrugs. "Maybe not, babe."

Sherlock sighs.

John takes him in a hug. "Come on, time for class."

Sherlock just nods and follow John back into the school.


	11. Chapter 11: Emergency

_**A/N: (Warning? Perhaps a promise?) for boy kisses. Thanks for reading! Please review! **_

* * *

The rest of the afternoon goes by quickly. 3:40 arrives in no time, and the boys are walking hand-in-hand to the library.

"You ok?" John asks when he feels Sherlock's fingers flutter in his.

"Of course."

"We don't have to do this."

"I want to."

John nods.

They pause in front of the library entrance. They look at each other and take a deep breath.

"Ready?"

Sherlock nods, so John opens the door for him.

Perry is in a table located deep into the library, where most students don't even know exists. Sherlock had sent him an email to say to meet there, and they're glad Perry complied.

"Thanks, uh…" Perry fumbles over his words. "Thanks for coming."

Sherlock just nods and sits across from Perry. John hovers right next to him.

"Why don't you tell us again what's happening?" John decides to start, knowing Sherlock isn't going to talk.

"Well, just what I said," Perry tells them. "Yesterday afternoon, I was sent to the office and told I was in trouble. I didn't know why, I knew I didn't do anything wrong. Then I was kicked off the team, just like that." Perry sighs and leans forward on his arms. "I know I didn't cheat."

"Was there any way anyone could have gotten that essay?"

Perry shakes his head. "I wrote it and sent it from my personal email to my school email. When I got here to school yesterday, I printed it and turned it in."

"Does anyone have the passwords to either of those email accounts?"

Perry shakes his head. "Just me."

John looks down at Sherlock.

"What time did you turn it in?" Sherlock asks.

Perry nearly jumps at the deepness of his voice. "Uhm…at eight o'clock, actually. As soon as I got to school. I was supposed to have a match yesterday, we were supposed to leave from school before class, but I was kicked off the team before I could leave."

Sherlock suddenly stands. "We'll be in touch," he says, then turns to leave.

John quickly follows, grabbing his hand as soon as they're out in the hallway. "You ok?"

Sherlock nods and takes a deep breath.

"What are you thinking?"

"Someone physically stole the paper. They probably made a copy of it and turned on in as their own. I made a list of everyone in that class, but now it's up in the air."

"Wait," John says, "Students have to sign in to use the copy machine. We can check the log. Absolutely nobody can sign in with a fake name, and you can't not sign in."

Sherlock nods. "I'll check tomorrow."

John smiles up at him. "Well done, love. Come on, I'll walk you home. We can take the long way."

"You don't need to, John. You'll already be half an hour later getting home."

"My mum won't be home until five, she said. That leaves me an hour more with you."

Sherlock nods, knowing he wants that hour as much as John does. "Mycroft isn't picking me up until five anyway."

"Oh, yeah. Where are your parents going?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Out to dinner, I guess. And they want their privacy. They wouldn't need it so much if my mother would just be home every once in a while."

"They'd probably still want it then, too. You're always with your dad."

"I guess," Sherlock says. "And Mycroft's always with my mum."

"That is true," John tells him. His voice drops to a more sad, disappointed tone, and he adds, "But it's nice, you know? At least your parents get an anniversary. I can't even remember the last time my dad was even-"

Sherlock places a hand on his shoulder. "Don't do that, John. I know that tone. It wasn't your fault."

John looks at his shoes. "I know."

Sherlock leans over and kisses his head. "Speaking of things that weren't your fault," he adds, "Have you talked to Harry?"

John shakes his head. "She hasn't been back."

"She's just running away from her problems."

"I know."

"What she did was her doing."

"I know."

"She can't be upset with you if Clara doesn't like her—"

"Sherlock, I know!"

Sherlock frowns and tries to sink into the pavement.

By then, John stops right in front of Sherlock's house and turns to him. "I'm sorry, ok? I just…I know, alright?"

Sherlock nods.

John leans up to kiss him lightly. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock nods again.

John wraps his arms around Sherlock's waist and hugs him tight. Sherlock hugs back, his arms around John's neck.

"I won't talk to you tonight," John says.

Sherlock holds back from saying something sarcastic like, _"Oh, really, John? You don't say?_"

"I'll miss you," John says.

"I'll miss you too."

"Please don't be upset that I shouted, Sherlock. I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

John nods and presses a kiss into Sherlock's coat, right over his heart. "Have a good night at your brother's. Don't kill him. He's just as annoyed by you as you are by him."

Sherlock chuckles. "Ok, John."

"I love you."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just takes hold of John's face and kisses him deeply.

Events from the morning reoccur; both boys get carried away and try to be one on the sidewalk.

"Come on," Sherlock whispers, trying to tug John towards the front door. "My brother won't be here for another fifty minutes."

John chuckles and holds his ground. "I'd want longer than that with you, love."

Sherlock groans and dives in for another kiss.

John breaks away this time. "The cases? What about—"

"You're dealing with one, I've already solved Harvey's, and I don't want to think about Perry while I'm kissing you."

Sherlock leans in to kiss John again, but John pulls way away. "What do you mean you already solved Harvey's?"

"Easy, wasn't it?" Sherlock asks, trying to pull John in.

John steps fully away. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock sighs, blushes, and pulls his coat tight around him. "His shoes were a mess so he left them out of his bag. He had the late practice at six, and the janitors clean at six every evening. So…" he pauses to let John connect the dots.

"So…the janitor…stole them?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "The janitor threw them away. I even asked to make sure. He thought they were just a gross, old pair. Which, by Harvey's description, they were."

"Did you tell him that?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I figured it out during last period and I didn't see him again."

"That's where you disappeared to?" John asks. He begins to laugh. "You're so bloody brilliant, you know that?"

Sherlock cracks a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course! God, I love you!" John says, then grabs Sherlock again and begins to kiss him.

A minute later, a car is heard coming up next to them. The car honks and the boys pull apart.

The back window rolls down and Mycroft looks up at them. "You're not being decent," he tells the boys.

Sherlock checks John's watch. "You're early."

"I missed you."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Let me go get my laptop," he tells Mycroft.

John walks him to the door, but says he can't go in.

"You didn't even need to walk me home, John," Sherlock tells him.

"Well, for one thing I wanted to be with you this extra time before I'm disconnected from the rest of the world. And two, I wanted to make sure you're safe."

"Of course I'm safe, why wouldn't I be safe?"

"Because we know a lot of dickheads, love, and I don't—" John suddenly pauses. "Fuck."

"What?"

"I gave Lily my mobile number in case she needs help, and I just remembered I don't have a mobile right now."

"So? I'm sure she's fine."

"You didn't read the emails, Sherlock. I'm really worried about her."

"Well, ask your mum if you can turn it on but not use it. I'm sure she'd understand."

"You're probably right," John says. "Speaking of my mum, I've got to beat her home."

Sherlock nods, disappointed. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow then."

John hugs him again and discreetly kisses his neck. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

John smiles at him once, then turns down the driveway to leave. He pauses by Mycroft's window.

"Bye, Mycroft. Remember that Sherlock doesn't mean the things he says."

Mycroft smiles. "Thank you, John. Good evening."

John waves once, then goes down the street.

* * *

Sherlock stares out the window as the car takes them through the city. He doesn't really mind being stuck with Mycroft for the evening; though the reasoning escapes him, he understands that his parents want to be alone. But he already misses John, which is a problem.

"Dad told me what you're doing at school," Mycroft says, breaking the silence.

Sherlock slightly turns his head to him, enough that Mycroft can see his profile. "What am I doing at school?"

"Your little…detective game."

Sherlock turns away again. "It's not a game."

"You're playing detective. It's charming, Sherlock, really. Just remember to leave the real detective work to real detectives."

"Because they can solve everything," Sherlock sarcastically retorts. "Even a man freezing to death by accident."

"Obviously," Mycroft says, a grin behind his voice. "I mean that I don't want you to get caught up in _real _crimes, Sherlock."

"I know."

"Dad also told me about your bullying problem."

Sherlock doesn't look away from the window. "Did he?"

"Sherlock," Mycroft seriously says, "You know I can help."

"I don't want you to."

"What's so wrong about me trying to offer a solution?"

"What would your solution be?" Sherlock half-curiously asks.

"Starting over."

Sherlock harshly shakes his head. "Out of the question."

"You live so close to John that you could see him often enough—"

Sherlock shakes his head again. "I've changed my mind, I don't want to leave."

Mycroft sighs. "Well, I'll just stay out of it, then."

"No you won't."

Mycroft doesn't say anything more, and a second later he begins speaking French into his phone. Sherlock pretends he's not eavesdropping while staring out the window and thinking about Perry's case.

* * *

"Mum! I'm home!" John shouts, entering the house. Dawn's car is in the driveway, so he knows she's home early. He tosses his backpack and coat on the sofa and goes through the house.

He finds her in the kitchen, talking and laughing on the phone.

"Hey," she says to the phone, "My son's home…talk later…bye."

He looks confused. "Who was that?"

"A friend," she says, setting the phone down. "How was your lab thing?"

"Fine," he says, not giving any more information about the lie. "But Mum, I have a question."

He explains the whole Lily situation to Dawn, all the while she looks in horror.

"It's really awful, Mum, so I was wondering if I could at least turn my phone on so I can hear it if she calls."

"Sure," she says. "Just for that, ok?"

He nods, "Of course."

She gets his phone from her bedroom and he turns it on. He discreetly checks the messages he'd received from everyone who doesn't know he's grounded, then puts it on the table and washes up for dinner.

He takes his phone to bed hours later, telling his mother that Lily actually has a social life and she may be walking home alone late, and that if John leaves that's where he's going, not to Sherlock. Dawn believes him, of course, for he's never snuck out to see Sherlock before.

And he's glad, because Lily calls just after ten o'clock.

He's barely asleep, so when he wakes he's more alert than he would have been at any later hour. "Hello? Lily? Are you ok?"

"John, I've just received another email."

He sits up in bed. It's ten at night, of course nobody can be sending it from the school network. "Tell me about it," he says.

"Well," she says, "This one wasn't exactly an email. It was an anonymous message on Tumblr."

"Oh?"

"And I've never given anyone my Tumblr URL. Not even my close friends."

"Oh…" he says. "Tell me what it says."

"It says, _'Don't ask Sherlock Holmes for help. If I want you I'm going to get you.' _John," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I'm scared."

John breaths deeply and wonders what he should do. "Where are you? Are you at home?"

"No, actually," she says, "I'm about to leave Jenna's house because we had to work on a project."

"Do you have a car?"

"No," she says, "I was planning to get some exercise by walking."

"Don't leave," he tells her. "I remember where Jenna lives. I'll be there really soon."

"John, you don't—"

"I do, Lily. I'll be there soon."

"Thanks, John," she says.

John doesn't say anything before he hangs up and gets jeans on. He rushes downstairs, and Dawn is still up watching television.

"Mum, I'm going to walk Lily home, alright? She's at Jenna's, a little ways past Sherlock's."

She eyes him. "John…"

"Mum, Sherlock's not even home and this is important. Lily received another email on a personal address that nobody has."

Dawn bites her lip, then nods. "Alright, John. Take the car, ok? Don't walk her home."

John doesn't have a driver's license, but he has driven before. "You sure, Mum?"

"Yes," she says. "Be careful."

"I will," he replies, kissing her cheek. "I'll be right back."

* * *

John arrives at Jenna's house in minutes, and Lily climbs into the car while glancing in every direction.

"You're ok," John tells her. He pats her shoulder as she gets her seatbelt on.

"Thank you, John."

John smiles at her, then begins down the street.

"Harvey should be finished decoding the emails," John tells her as they drive. "He was looking into both yours and Sherlock's. This message was anonymous?"

"Yeah," she says, biting her lip. "Harvey's looking into this? Harvey Lucas?"

"Yeah. Turns out he's pretty good with computers. Who knew, right?"

She pushes out a chuckle. "Yeah…"

He looks at her. "What, are you suspecting Harvey?"

"No, no, no!" she tries. "It's just…uhm…"

He eyes her. "Tell me, what is it? I'm sorry, I should have asked. He just started and I really needed him to look into Sherlock's, so-"

"It's ok, John. It's just…he and I…we're…"

"Are you two…dating?"

"Not officially," she says. "But now I…" she buries her face in her hands, "…what if he thinks I'm a freak now, because of this?"

"Lily," John pats her knee, "You're being assaulted, Lily. It's _so _not your fault. Once we find who's doing this, we're going to get the police involved, ok? Sherlock's brother is good friends with a police officer; he owes Sherlock and I more than one favor. And Harvey will understand that it's not you, ok? You've done absolutely nothing wrong."

"What if this is happening because I—"

"It's not your fault."

"But what if—"

"It's not your fault!"

"But—"

"Lily!" John cries. "It's. Not. You. Ok? It's never, _ever_ the victim's fault."

Lily sighs and her body sags with relaxation. "Alright."

"And if Harvey thinks it's your fault, then he's got a problem. But I highly doubt it, ok? He's a pretty good guy."

Lily nods. "He is, isn't he?"

John nods. "But…I mean, Harvey's a good looking guy and all, but isn't he a bit…"

Lily looks at him. "What? Not good enough for me?"

John looks at her. "Kind of."

Lily laughs. "John, do you know that I've been hearing that about every boy I've even _looked at _since I was in primary school! If I actually believed it, I'd be alone forever and think I was better than everyone else. But I'm not, I'm a normal person. And Harvey is really funny and sweet. I like him a lot."

"That's good," John says.

"Do you know…" she starts, then stops. She chuckles into her hand.

"What?" he asks, laughing at her.

"No, no, it's embarrassing. And you might get upset!"

"I won't!" he cries. "What is it?"

She continues laughing and looks at him. "I used to…" she shakes her head. "I used to like Sherlock!"

He laughs loudly. "What?! When?!"

"Oh…about three years ago! Right after summer break. When we returned to school, he was taller and his voice was deeper and, well you probably know."

"Yeah, he got bloody gorgeous."

"Right!" she shouts. "And…I don't know. Of course I knew he must've been gay, even back then, so I never gained the courage to talk to him. But yeah, I had a crush on your boyfriend."

"That's funny," John says. "So did I, of course."

She laughs.

Right then, they pull up in front of her house.

"Thank you, John. Really, thank you so much."

"It's not a problem," he tells her. "Tomorrow morning I'll ask Harvey if he's gotten anything."

"Ok," she agrees, leaning over and hugging John. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," he says as she climbs out of the car.

He waits for her to get inside, then begins his way home. He looks around the street to make sure nobody is following or watching. He feels awful for Lily, but he's glad she took his offer and called him when she needed help. Plus, he got to hear her secret about liking Sherlock, and that makes him laugh the whole way home.

* * *

He sneaks a text before bed, sending Sherlock a quick message.

**To Sherlock Holmes **My mum gave me my phone for emergencies, and I'm glad because I had to pick Lily up from Jenna's. I just got home and I'm going to sleep, but I love you. Goodnight, babe.

He gets a reply immediately, and right after he shuts his phone off.

**From Sherlock Holmes **You're a good man, John Watson. I love you. SH


	12. Chapter 12: Perry

_**A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading! Warning for language, I guess. That's all for today. : ) **_

* * *

When John finds Sherlock the very next morning, he's already talking to Harvey.

"What'd I miss?" John asks, arriving next to them.

"This," Harvey hands John an envelope, "These are the real email addresses of who have been bullying Sherlock and Lily."

"Oh?" John takes it.

"He won't let me have it because he thinks I won't do anything about it," Sherlock explains.

"Well, that's wise of you, Harvey."

Harvey smiles. "I'm glad to help, really. And thanks for finding out about what happened to my shoes. Huge bummer, but Mister Brown, the janitor, is making it up to me."

"Really?" John asks. "That's nice of him."

Harvey nods. "Well, let me know if you want, like…payment, or something?"

Sherlock motions to the envelope. "Consider us even," he says, turning to leave. "Come on, John."

"Actually," Harvey stops John. "Can we talk, John? In private?"

Sherlock eyes them suspiciously, then pats John's shoulder and leaves.

"What's up, Harvey?" John asks as soon as Sherlock is gone.

"I just, uhm…thanks for helping Lily out. I wish she'd have told me everything that's happening, but…"

"So, you're not…upset?"

"Upset?" Harvey repeats. "Nah, man. I _am _upset that this is happening to her, I'm bloody livid, but I'm not upset with her, is what I mean."

John nods.

"So, yeah. Thanks for taking her home last night and for being so concerned. I really appreciate it, little dude."

John smiles, not taking offense to the name just then. "You're welcome, Harvey. Thank you. I owe you one."

Harvey smiles, then turns down the hall to class.

John's got a few minutes before first period starts, so he decides to take a look at the lists. Sherlock's list is five people long, and John knows they're all Vince and his friends, Perry included. The list includes the date and times for each email, and he notices Perry's stop on Monday. John thinks it's at least nice that he stopped when he knew he'd need Sherlock's help.

He opens up the piece of paper Harvey had written the address of Lily's assaulter on, and it's an address of numbers and letters. He's incredibly confused, for the address is: **141a_33120**. He wonders what it means, but his thoughts are cut off by the bell ringing.

Sherlock goes to the office during lunch to 'use the copy machine'. The office secretary leaves him alone with the book, and he has the perfect opportunity to read through it to Monday morning.

Not to his surprise, the culprit is Vince.

But he's confused. If Vince stole Perry's research paper, surely Vince would be in trouble as well. If Vince did get in trouble, there's no way he could have convinced their teacher that he didn't have a hand in the cheating.

Sherlock copies a paper he finds in his backpack and leaves. He quickly finds John in the cafeteria and pulls him away from Brady.

"What, what is it?" John frantically asks as they get into the hall outside of the cafeteria.

"I found out who copied Perry's paper."

"Oh? Who?"

"Who else?" Sherlock retorts. "Vince."

John's eyes bulge out of his head. "Wh-how? Why?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I haven't any idea. I have another idea, though. This afternoon I'm going to steal the papers."

"How?"

"Miss Green always leaves her desk immediately after school to use the restroom and refill her coffee. She's gone twenty minutes, plenty of time for me to get in, find the paper, and get out."

"How are you going to get in?"

Sherlock makes a face. "Please, John. I learned how to break into rooms when I was six."

John rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine. I'll stay a bit after school to keep watch. My mum won't mind."

"Ok," Sherlock agrees. "Perfect."

John finally smiles and pats Sherlock's arms. "Well done, love."

Sherlock triumphantly smiles, then lets John go back into the cafeteria.

* * *

Sherlock is eager to get to Miss Green's classroom after school to search for the copied research paper. He has a plan to find Perry's, then Vince's to see if they're the same. He knows it shouldn't take long, and he's very excited to turn Vince in.

Sherlock is so caught up with his thoughts on the case that he doesn't even notice his teacher calling to him that he's got a note from the office. When he finally gets Sherlock's attention, Sherlock confusedly stands and quickly shuffles out of the room.

He has no idea what he's done wrong. The only thing he's done differently recently is put up the fliers about helping kids, but that was last week. He begins to grow worried, not wanting to be in trouble.

When he gets there and into the headmaster's office, he's a nervous wreck.

"Do you know why you're here, Mister Holmes?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"It's come to my attention that you've cheated on your research paper about…" he glances over and reads something, then adds, "Shakespeare."

That's the paper they just had due Monday, the one Perry is in trouble for.

"What?!" Sherlock demands.

"Your paper matches another student's—"

"Whose?!"

"I can't share that information," Headmaster Card says. "But I can tell by your shock that perhaps you didn't do the cheating."

"Of course I bloody didn't!"

"Lower your voice, boy," the headmaster warns.

Sherlock sits back in his seat and breaths deeply.

"The student your paper matches is far behind your usual level of writing though, Mister Holmes. My hands are tied. He says he didn't cheat and you're saying you didn't."

"I didn't!"

"I must suspend you for two days, Mister Holmes."

"This isn't fair!"

"Starting tomorrow," Headmaster Card says. "You must finish out today, and your suspension starts tomorrow."

"This _really _isn't fair!"

Headmaster Card just folds his hands in front of him and stares at Sherlock.

"This is shit," Sherlock says, grabbing his bag and standing.

"Don't make me suspend you for longer, young man."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just gets out of the office as quickly as he can.

Unfortunately, the bell rings as he exits, so students begin filing out of classes as he stands there stunned.

"You little fucking freak!" Sherlock hears from down the hall.

His immediate thought is to run, but he is so stunned that he can't move until he's shoved.

"I trusted you, and you tricked me!" the voice shouts.

It takes Sherlock a second to realize it's Perry. He's so confused that he can't even stop Perry before Perry punches him in the cheek.

Sherlock grabs his face when he stumbles back. He still can't move or do anything, then Perry grabs him by the shirt collar and holds him up straight.

"You piece of shit," Perry spits, "You stay the fuck away from me. To think I trusted you."

Perry tosses him away, like a rag doll, then storms away.

Sherlock just slowly sits on the floor. He's right outside the office and miraculously nobody saw Perry punch him. He feels blood stream down his cheek, and he feels tears swell in his eyes.

Sherlock gets cleaned up and goes to his last class late. John's in shock when Sherlock walks in, but Sherlock ignores his gaze and everyone else's and goes straight to his seat at the back of the room. He rests his head on the desk and doesn't even bother listening to the teacher for the entire class.

He gets out of the room as soon as the bell rings. He knows John is running after him, but he doesn't slow down on his way to Miss Green's classroom. He's still determined to prove that he didn't cheat and that Vince did.

"Sherlock!" John shouts when he catches up. "Babe, what the hell happened?"

Sherlock glances at him once, but doesn't bother to explain. There's time for that later.

John doesn't let up, and Sherlock knows that John knows he's going to break into Miss Green's classroom. John doesn't say anything, and for that Sherlock is thankful.

Sherlock waits a few minutes before he breaks in, waiting for students to disappear from the hallway. As soon as it's clear, he gets on his knees and pulls a paperclip from his pocket.

"Amazing," John mutters as the lock clicks and the door cracks open.

Sherlock doesn't reply, he only slips in and closes the door.

He goes straight to Miss Green's desk, where her box of papers to grade is. He knows the research papers will be there, for he saw her put them there with his own eyes.

He quickly finds Perry's class's papers and finds Perry's. He finds Vince's two papers later, because Vince and Perry are in the same class.

He's completely shocked to find that the papers are different.

"What…" Sherlock says outloud.

"What?!" John calls through the door.

"Nothing!" Sherlock replies, putting Vince's paper back and pulling out his class's papers. If his is matching Perry's, surely it's in the box.

He nearly gasps when he finds it. His name is _hand-written _in the upper right hand corner. Obviously, Sherlock knew it wasn't going to be his real research paper, but this is proof enough that it's not his.

He sits on the floor with 'his' research paper for many long seconds, trying to perhaps figure out whose handwriting it is. It's not his, of course, and it's not John's. It's not even Perry's, for he's seen Perry's.

Suddenly, he realizes he _has_ seen it before. He shuffles through the box, back to his old class's assignments, and finds what he's looking for.

There, on the last paper he turned in in that last period class, is the paper Vince took from him and wrote 'Freak Holmes' on the top.

Sherlock sighs relief and sits against Miss Green's desk. He smiles at himself, proud that he's solved what's going on, but he just as quickly hears a knock on the door.

"Sherlock, she's coming!"

Sherlock scrambles to get the papers back in the right spots, but not before pulling his phone out and snapping photos of each paper. He then stands from the floor.

"Uh, hi Miss Green," he hears John say.

Sherlock looks around the room for somewhere to hide, but he knows Miss Green doesn't leave her classroom until she's ready to leave the building altogether, which is late at night. His gaze finally falls upon the large windows, and he runs over and opens one up. He shimmies through and falls into the dead bushes below, right on time to hear Miss Green open her classroom door.

Sherlock walks around the building to the front entrance, where John is exiting the building.

"So?" he asks, running to Sherlock.

"Vince stole Perry's paper, made a copy, _hand-wrote _my name on the top, and turned it in 'for me'."

"What happened to your face?" John asks, as if not interested in Sherlock's explanation.

Sherlock had forgotten about that, and when he remembers, it stings. "Perry punched me in the hall before last period."

John frowns deeply. "He did? That fucking prick, I'll—"

"You'll nothing, John. I solved it. I'll tell Headmaster Card what happened tomorrow."

John takes a deep breath and nods. Then, he lunges forward and wraps his arms around Sherlock.

Sherlock eagerly hugs back.

"I'm sorry, love. For what he did."

"It's ok, John. I'll get it taken care of tomorrow."

John pulls away and nods, then takes Sherlock's hand and begins to walk him towards their houses.


	13. Chapter 13: Lily

"Let me see your phone for a minute?" John asks as soon as they get out of the gates of the school.

Confused, Sherlock hands it over and watches as John dials and holds the phone to his ear.

"Mum," John says as Sherlock hears someone answer. "Yeah, it's me. Mum, something's happened."

Sherlock continues to wonder what John's doing while John talks to Dawn.

"No, not with—I'm fine, Mum—Sher—Mum, listen to me!" John takes a deep breath and apologizes for shouting. "Sherlock and I have been working a case trying to figure out who stole Perry's research paper. Well, long story short, someone set Sherlock up and Perry randomly beat Sherlock up."

Sherlock frowns and hears Dawn gasp, then ask if he's ok.

"I don't know, Mum, that's why I'm calling. I'll be grounded an extra day next week, I promise, I just…can I go over to his house to make sure he's ok?"

Sherlock is pleased to hear Dawn agree and tell John to still not be home too late. John mutters agreements, thanks his mother, then hangs up.

"You didn't have to do that," Sherlock says in a monotone voice.

"Yes, I bloody well did," John says, grabbing Sherlock's hand and squeezing tight. "Are you ok?"

Sherlock can't bring himself to say yes; he's not ok. He just shrugs.

They make it to Sherlock's house and John is disappointed to find that Clement isn't in.

"My dad will be back soon," Sherlock says in explanation as he sheds his coat.

John nods, not questioning how Sherlock knew what he wanted to know. He takes his coat off and drags Sherlock to the sitting room.

The sofa is John's favorite part of the house, apart from wherever Sherlock is in a specific moment. It's soft and plush and purple (Sherlock's request), and he thinks it's exactly what Sherlock needs if there isn't time to build a bed under the piano. John sits at the edge, mashed against the arm, and pats his knee until Sherlock lies on the sofa, his head resting on John's lap.

John strokes his hair, running his fingers through the soft, black fluff. He chuckles when his finger gets caught in a particularly curly ringlet, and fully laughs when he untangles and the ringlet bounces back to Sherlock's head.

"I love your gorgeous hair," John says, rubbing Sherlock's scalp again.

Sherlock contently sighs and digs deeper into John's lap.

John's fingers roam down Sherlock's head to his neck. He rubs the soft skin there, remembering how wonderful it feels under his lips. He continues up to Sherlock's jaw, to his yielding cheeks and jagged cheek bones. He sighs and looks angrily at the gash across his marble skin. It's not large enough for Sherlock require stitches, but John is nonetheless more angry than he's been in a long time.

"It doesn't hurt," Sherlock mutters, sensing John's tension.

John lightly runs a fingertip over the cut. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock turns his head to look up at John, and John notices clear streaks of moisture across Sherlock's nose and down to his temple.

He wipes Sherlock's tears away, then leans down and kisses Sherlock lightly.

They hear the garage door opening before their kissing can get carried away, not that they'd let it on the sofa. Sherlock sniffles and sits up, wiping his nose and eyes. John pats his back and eventually rests his arm around Sherlock's waist.

Clement whistles as he enters the house. John cracks a smile when he recognizes _Let It Snow, _but he just as quickly frowns, realizing he's been forgetting about his favorite time of year: Christmas. He momentarily thinks about a gift for Sherlock, but he's cut off by Clement entering the sitting room.

"John! I thought you were grounded! What brings you—" Clement stops, obviously taking note of the boy's shared serious face. When he notices Sherlock's cheek, he frowns deeply. "What. Happened." It's not a question, it's a demand.

Clement sits on the coffee table across from the boys while they explain everything. They tell Clement about Perry's case, about Vince's copies, about Sherlock's suspension, about Perry finding out that Sherlock's paper matched his, Perry punching Sherlock in the face, and finally about Sherlock finding the stolen research paper with Vince's handwriting on it.

Clement rubs his face and takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Dad?" Sherlock asks.

Clement holds up a finger indicating Sherlock to wait, then begins speaking into the phone. "Get home, now," is all Clement says, then hangs up.

Sherlock thinks Clement called his mother, but Sherlock wonders why. Rebecca's never been involved in any of Sherlock's problems, and Sherlock doesn't even know if she's in the country.

Clement doesn't say anything or explain, he just quietly gets up and goes to the kitchen.

The boys don't follow, and before Clement's even got the tea in the sitting room, the front door is thrown open.

"What happened?" Mycroft's voice rings through the house. His loud footsteps are heard on the hardwood floor, and Sherlock tries to sink into the sofa.

Mycroft makes it to the sitting room and spots them immediately, of course. He swiftly moves to the sofa and takes Sherlock's chin between long fingers. He tilts Sherlock's head to look at him, and Sherlock's eyes fill with tears again.

"Who did this?" Mycroft asks as softly as possible.

John's seen them interact like this before. Mycroft's soft voice makes Sherlock feel guilty, or sad, it makes him talk and do whatever Mycroft asks. The first time John had seen it was when he and Sherlock were ten and accidentally broke Mycroft's remote control helicopter, the one Mycroft had taken all summer to build from scratch. Mycroft had found the boys at the pool and Sherlock didn't even get out of the pool before Mycroft softly asked, _"Sherlock, did you two break my helicopter?"_Sherlock had immediately burst into tears and told Mycroft everything, and they were both punished for it later.

Now, as then, Sherlock's tears fall down his sharp cheeks.

Sherlock spills the whole story again, all the while Mycroft intently listens.

When they finish, Mycroft asks John for the list Harvey had given him.

"I wrote their real identities to the side," John says, handing it over.

Mycroft reads the list. "Vince…Perry..." he silently goes through the others. He passes the list to Clement and looks at Sherlock. "Brother," he softly says, "This is it."

Sherlock just nods and looks down at his lap.

"Wh—" John starts, knowing what Mycroft means. "No. No, no, no. You're not leaving, no."

"John—" Mycroft tries.

"No, you don't bloody use your voice with me, Mycroft Holmes, it doesn't work. I don't have to do as you say, and neither does he."

Sherlock places a hand on John's knee. "John—"

"You're not leaving, Sherlock, no. It makes more sense to punish them and get them to stop than it does for Sherlock to run away. What if this happens at the next school, huh? What if it doesn't stop?"

"That's a chance we need to take, John," Mycroft says. "It's more likely Sherlock go to a new school and have no problems than for bullies like this to stop. A bully who so carefully executed this heist just to be able to beat Sherlock up with reason is one who isn't going to be stopped."

"How do you know that's why Vince did this? Just to be able to beat him up?"

"It's already worked, didn't it?" Mycroft retorts.

John sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

"John," he hears Clement this time. "I know you're upset, we all are, but you know as well as we do that things could be so much worse once we get the bullies punished."

John sighs.

Right then, the doorbell rings. Clement quickly stands and rushes to it, and a minute later, Lestrade is standing behind Mycroft.

They tell him all the important bits, about the usual bullying, the cyber bullying, and Perry punching Sherlock. Lestrade takes notes.

"So? What are you wanting to do?" Lestrade asks once they're finished.

"Press assault charges," Mycroft answers.

"Wait, Myc…" Sherlock starts. "I…I don't…"

"You've been assaulted, Sherlock," Clement says. "That boy _hit _you, honey."

John wraps an arm around Sherlock again and presses his nose into Sherlock's shoulder.

"But…I…"

"I know, Sherlock," Mycroft says. "But once this is all taken care of, he won't hurt you again."

"What if he does, Myc?"

Mycroft softly says, "He won't. None of them will."

Mycroft leads Lestrade away to talk about all of it in private, and John knows this means Mycroft is making it so that Sherlock won't have to deal with any of it anymore (_any of it_ being court or further statements).

"As for your suspension," Clement says, "We'll go in first thing in the morning to talk about this, ok?"

Sherlock nods. "I can prove I didn't cheat. I took photos."

"I know. And we will talk about it tomorrow."

Sherlock nods again. He rubs his head and makes a pained face. "I just wish I had something else to think about to take my mind off this."

John perks up and reaches for his backpack. "Take a look at this, Sherlock," he says, rummaging around and finally locating a piece of paper. He hands it to Sherlock.

Sherlock opens it up and reads the numbers and letter: **141a_33120**

Sherlock furrows his brows and looks it.

"It's the decoded email address that Harvey gave to me," John explains. "It's the address of Lily's assaulter."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and stares at the paper. John knows he's thinking, so he doesn't say anything while Sherlock is silent.

Sherlock closes his eyes to let the numbers float through his head. _Numbers. House numbers. License plates. Identification card numbers. Football kit numbers. But the 'a'. A could stand for anything. A name? A last name? They're specifically placed numbers and letter, almost a…_

"Combination!" Sherlock shouts, opening his eyes.

"What?" John asks.

"It's a combination, maybe a safe or something. But…" Sherlock sighs and bites his lip. "The 'a'…"

John looks, too, but isn't seeing anything Sherlock's seeing. He has no idea what Sherlock means by 'combination', to him it just looks like a jumble of random numbers. If anything, though, he'd think it's a—

"Locker!" both boys shout at the same time.

They look at each other and grin.

"It's a locker at school," Sherlock says. "This has got to be secondary address, right? Like my work address. This person had to have made it something memorable, and what more do you remember on a daily basis than your locker and locker combination?"

"Brilliant!" John shouts.

Clement pats Sherlock's knee, mutters something about checking on Mycroft, then leaves.

"Do you think the school's still open?" Sherlock asks, standing.

John checks his watch. "It's only three fifty. It's got to be. Why?"

"Let's find out whose locker this is now," he says, turning away and marching out of the room. "Dad!" he calls. "We'll be right back, we're going to run back to school!"

"Ok!" Clement calls. "Hurry back!"

John and Sherlock pull their coats on and leave the house.

* * *

They get to the school and find the front doors open, as expected. The lights are still on and only a few students are lingering the hallways, but not many.

"The 'a' must mean Hall A, right? That's just here," Sherlock says, turning into Hall A.

"So that means…" John mutters, walking down the row of lockers. He abruptly pauses at one near the end. "Here!"

Sherlock goes to him quickly and they look at each other.

"So?" John asks.

"Oh…" Sherlock mutters, pulling the paper out of his pocket. "Alright," he says, "Try combination '3-31-20'."

John tries, but the locker remains locked.

"33-12-0."

John does as told, but the locker still doesn't open.

"Only one more try before we have to change around the order of the numbers, but if it _is _the code, I doubt the assaulter would jumble them," Sherlock says. "33-1-20."

John takes a deep breath, his stomach turning as he turns the dial.

It clicks open.

John eagerly pulls the lock off and shoves it in his pocket, then pushes the tab and pulls the door open.

There's nothing in the locker except a library book and a scarf. No textbooks, no decorations, not even a forgotten coat or gym shoes.

John disappointedly sighs. "Damn it!"

"Wait," Sherlock says, picking up the book. He opens the cover to find the library check-out card missing.

He and John look at each other, locking eyes, then they turn and race down the hall towards the library.

The librarian is thankfully still in, so John takes the book and goes to her desk.

He uses a kind voice to talk to her. "Hello, ma'am. I found this book and I was wondering if I could see the check-out cards to find whose it is?"

She smiles. "Of course, here you go. Just put it back here when you're done, and don't take any cards."

"Of course," John says, smiling.

He takes the little box of cards she handed him and he steps over to Sherlock so they can sort through the stack.

"It's got to be in here," John whispers as they search.

"It will be John," Sherlock offers.

Finally, long minutes later, after believing their case was lost, the card they need is the very last one.

"Here it is," Sherlock says, holding it up.

John snatches it and reads the names on the list.

The very last name is in scratchy handwriting belonging to one Tom Jones.

John knows Tom. He's quiet and only plays football because his dad makes him. _Apparently_, John thinks, _it _is_ the quiet ones to watch out for._

"I'll fucking kill him," John whispers, putting the card down and rushing away.

"John, wait!" Sherlock calls, leaving the cards there on the desk and running after John.

Sherlock tries to pull John away, telling him that Lestrade can be involved now, that they solved it and Lily will be safe.

But that's not good enough for John.

John marches out of the building and towards the football field where the team is practicing. He spots Tom immediately, and Sherlock tries again to grab him. He fails, and John walks right onto the field.

"Hey, little dude!" John hears. Harvey smiles at him as he marches passed, but it's all a blur before he walks right up to Tom and kicks him in the groin.

The coach blows his whistle as Tom falls to the ground.

"You disgusting fucker!" John yells down at Tom. "I know what you're doing and you're not going to get away with it!"

Tom looks up at him in disbelief, but not one ounce of John thinks he's making the face of someone who is innocent.

The coach grabs John's arm and yanks him away, and John snaps out of it as he's pushed off the field. Sherlock grabs his hand and turns to leave, but then they hear shouting coming from where they just were, so they turn around.

They see Harvey on top of Tom, punching him.

"Harvey!" John yells, running over as fast as he can. He pulls Harvey off of Tom and into a standing position.

"You stay the fuck away from her!" Harvey yells, pointing his finger down at Tom.

John pulls Harvey away, and Harvey sniffles as he marches off the field.

John and Sherlock follow Harvey into the locker room. Harvey slams the doors open and slams each open locker shut, while shouting at nothing.

"I can't believe this!" Harvey yells. "He's my friend! We're so nice to him, _Lily_ is so nice to him! Why would he treat her this way?!"

"We don't know, Harvey," Sherlock tries while John crosses his arms and stands against the wall.

Harvey slams another locker shut and throws himself onto the bench. He takes off his shin guards and changes his shoes, all the while visibly fuming.

"I have to go see her," he explains, "We have to go tell her."

"There's an officer at my house now," Sherlock says. "I'll call him and tell him to meet us at Lily's house."

Harvey looks up at him. "It'll help?" he asks.

Sherlock nods, taking his phone out.

They get in Harvey's car minutes later. Harvey takes out a cigarette and lights it before starting the engine. Sherlock stares at him.

"Harvey," John starts from the back seat, "Can Sherlock have a cigarette?"

"Sure, little dude," Harvey says, taking one and handing it to Sherlock.

Sherlock eagerly takes it and lights it, then sighs relief when he takes the first drag. John reaches to the front seat and rubs Sherlock's shoulders.

They don't speak on their way to Lily's house. When they arrive, Harvey jumps out of the car as soon as he takes the keys out of the ignition and runs to the door.

He waits for a minute, then when Lily answers, he attacks her in a giant hug.

"Oh?" Lily sighs.

"Lily," John says from behind Harvey, "We need to talk."

* * *

Lestrade arrives minutes after they do, and Lily convinces her mother to sit down to talk with them. John tells Lily what they've found, and Lily begins to cry.

"Lily…" her mother sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried," Lily cries. "But…"

Lestrade begins to ask questions and takes statements. He assures Harvey that he'll probably get off of being in trouble for punching Tom, but that he will probably still be in a little bit of trouble for hacking the school's network. Harvey happily accepts, saying they wouldn't have found out who was doing this to Lily had he not hacked the network.

Lestrade calls from his radio to another officer and tells them to pick Tom up from the school. He assures Lily it will all be taken care of, then leaves.

"Are you ok?" John asks when Lily's mother follows Lestrade outside to talk in private.

Lily nods. "I'm relieved," she says. She looks at Harvey. "You're sure there was only one address sending me those messages?"

Harvey nods. "I'm positive."

Lily sighs and nods again. She looks at John and Sherlock. "Thank you so much. For everything."

"You're welcome," John says.

"You guys may have really saved me from something awful."

"We're glad to help," Sherlock says.

John pats his knee, then stands. "We'd better get back, love."

Lily and Harvey stand with Sherlock. Lily hugs them both tightly, and Sherlock even hugs back. Harvey takes his turn and hugs them too, but Sherlock is far less enthusiastic about hugging him.

Lestrade is still outside when they walk out the door, so he offers them a ride back to Sherlock's.

"You just want to see my brother again," Sherlock teases.

John catches Lestrade blush.

He leaves the boys there, and they stand outside for a few minutes.

"I'm so proud of you," John says, taking Sherlock in a hug.

"I'm proud of you, too," Sherlock says.

"For? I didn't solve anything."

Sherlock shrugs. "And I wouldn't have ever had the courage to kick Tom in the balls, like he deserves."

"He deserves much worse than that, but Harvey gave it to him pretty well."

Sherlock chuckles.

"I love you so much," John says. "Please don't leave schools."

Sherlock sighs. "I…" he pauses.

"One more try, please?"

"You said that last week."

"And this week we have the police involved."

"I suppose you're right."

John pulls back to look Sherlock in the eye. "I am, love. Please, Lestrade will get this taken care of and you'll be safe at school."

Sherlock just nods.

John places his hands on Sherlock's neck and leans up to kiss him.

But before his lips touch Sherlock's, the door is thrown open.

They jump apart quickly and turn to see Clement.

"Oh, I…" Clement mutters, about to close the door. "I'll just…"

John chuckles. "It's ok, we were just coming inside." He grabs Sherlock's hand and pulls him into the warm house.

* * *

From then on, their evening turns pleasant. Clement makes them dinner and they eat together in the sitting room to watch a rerun of Doctor Who. It's a funny episode, which is exactly what they need.

John announces he needs to leave after they end up watching two episodes. Clement leaves them alone outside, and they make up for the previous lost time by kissing slowly for long minutes. They know it's time to leave when Sherlock lustfully bites John's lower lip.

"I love you," Sherlock says first, something he rarely does.

"I love you too," John tells him. "So fucking much. You have no idea."

"Yes, I do," Sherlock argues. "I love you as much, if not more."

John laughs. "Don't start this, Holmes. You will not win."

"Oh, really, Watson? What are you going to do?"

"I'll show you," John teases, "Next time we're alone. This weekend, maybe? My mum works Saturday."

Sherlock grins and bites his lip in thought. "Perhaps my father will also be out of the house," he says.

John smiles. "Well, it's a date then. For now, goodnight. Have sweet dreams, my love."

"And you, John," Sherlock says, kissing John one last time, then opening the front door and slipping through.

* * *

John smiles the whole way home. He stops as soon as he sees Dawn on the sofa, where he retells the entire story of the evening, including kicking Tom in the crotch. She hugs him tight and tells him she's proud of him, and tells him that as a reward for helping everyone so much, he can have his phone back. She hugs him tight and continues to repeat how proud she is, and John's never felt more happy with his mother, ever.

* * *

_**A/N: This chapter was originally spit in two, but they were both pretty short and I thought, eh why not put them together? Also, if you've ever read my story **_**Being 16 _(which you should totally do, I mean I don't know I've heard it's pretty good? ; ]) you would know that in my headcanon, Sherlock and Mycroft are loving brothers. And I think they care for each other a lot (obviously, in the show Mycroft says, 'I worry about him. Constantly.' So yes, I believe Mycroft would have more say in this stuff than their dad. And maybe Mycroft was also bullied as a teen so he knows how necessary it is for Sherlock to get out of that situation. Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review! _**


	14. Chapter 14: Detention

_**A/N: Hello, all! Thanks for the kind reviews last chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed them solving the case and Sherlock's relationship with his dad. I really like writing this so I hope you like reading it. Thanks! Reviews always appreciated!**_

_**This chapter has a warning for sexytimes, I know how much you all anticipate that.**_

* * *

The next morning, Clement and Sherlock get to the school right after the bell for first period rings. They wait a few minutes before they're called into the Headmaster's office, then they go in and quietly sit across from him.

"Mister Holmes and Mister Holmes," Headmaster Card says, standing and holding his hand out to shake Clement's. "Pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine, Headmaster Card," Clement says. "As you may have guessed, I'm here to discuss with you the matter of my son's suspension."

"I thought as much," Headmaster Card says.

"Sir, my son can and will, right now, prove to you that he didn't steal Perry Wolf's research paper about..." Clement turns to Sherlock, "What, son?"

"Shakespeare."

Headmaster Card sits forward in his seat. "This I've got to hear."

Sherlock glances at Clement, silently wondering (not for the first time this morning) if this is a good idea. Clement nods, and Sherlock pulls a paper out of his backpack.

"I'm not sure if you've seen these around, sir," Sherlock hands Headmaster Card the flier for his detective work. "I put them up last week. That's a second email address I set up for this."

Headmaster Card looks it over, then sets it down. "Go on."

"A few students contacted me, sir. I figured out that Amy and Beverly stole Jenna Darling's expensive earrings. I figured out that Mister Brown, the janitor, accidentally threw away Harvey Lucas's shoes. Just little things, sir."

Headmaster Card nods.

"Perry Wolf contacted me to help him find out who stole his research paper," Sherlock takes another paper from his bag. "Here's a copy of the email."

Headmaster Card takes that paper, too. "Ok, Mister Holmes. Explain to me how this proves you didn't cheat."

"_This_ doesn't, sir. What proves my innocence is that Perry told me he emailed his paper from his main email address to his school email address, then printed it and turned it in as soon as he got here. If nobody else has his address passwords, then this means someone physically stole and copied his paper. So yesterday, I came to the office to copy something, just to take a look at the log."

"Ok?"

"Well, sir…" Sherlock suddenly stands. "Hang on."

Sherlock runs out of his office and into the main office, quickly returning with the copy machine log book.

"If you just look here, sir," Sherlock says, handing the book over. "It says right here that Vince Hawkins checked in that morning."

Headmaster Card's eyes widen. "Now this is some concrete evidence, Mister Holmes."

"That's not all, sir," Sherlock says, sitting back down. "I was confused. For Perry was kicked off the lacrosse team and Vince wasn't. I wondered how this could be, so I decided to…uhm…" Sherlock looks down, pretending to look sorry. "I broke into Miss Green's classroom."

"You did?" Card asks.

"Yes, sir. I quickly found Perry's research paper, then Vince's. I found that Vince's _didn't _match, and I was very confused. Then, since this was after you suspended me, I found mine. Sure enough, it was Perry's paper. But," Sherlock pulls his phone out of his pocket and finds the photo he'd taken of 'his' paper. "My name was handwritten on the top. That's not my handwriting, and I know it's not Perry's."

"Huh…" Card mutters.

"I remembered seeing that handwriting recently, in my name, too. Last week, before I was taken out of his class, Vince took my paper and wrote," Sherlock takes the phone back from Card and scrolls over to the photo of Vince's writing on the other paper. He hands it back and Card nods.

"Well, Mister Holmes, I do believe you've successfully proved you were wrongfully punished."

Sherlock cracks a smile and takes his phone back from Card.

"I do have to give you a detention for breaking in to Miss Green's classroom, though."

"I suspected as much, sir."

"Well done, young man."

Sherlock fully smiles this time.

"Uh, Sherlock," Clement speaks up. "You're missing an important part."

Sherlock frowns. "I, uh…well, sir, I'm assuming Vince, who set me up, told Perry that I'd done it while I was here being suspended. As soon as I stepped out of the office, I heard Perry yell at me from down the hall, and…" Sherlock reaches for his cheek and rubs the cut bruise there.

"He punched you?" Card questions.

Sherlock nods. "Yes, sir."

Card sighs.

"I don't do anything to them, sir. And I think this is a pretty clear sign that they are huge bullies to me."

Card nods. "Of course, Mister Holmes. I can assure you it will be taken care of right away."

"The police are involved, Headmaster Card," Clement adds. "If you won't do anything about it, they will."

Headmaster Card just nods.

Clement and Sherlock leave right after that. They stop outside the office, just as they had the week before.

"Well done, son," Clement says. "I'm proud of you."

Sherlock nods. "John should be by shortly. There was a note on Headmaster Card's desk that we all need to talk about Lily's situation."

Clement grasps his shoulder, sensing the tension in Sherlock's voice. "That Tom kid will get in trouble, Sherlock."

"And if he doesn't?" Sherlock asks, looking at his father. "If he continues to harass her? If he actually hurts her?"

"There are more actions to take. The law could say Tom get kicked out of school, if Headmaster Card doesn't do it first."

Sherlock nods.

Clement pulls Sherlock in for a hug, and right then, the secretary opens the door and calls Sherlock back.

"Good luck," Clement says, kissing Sherlock's head.

Sherlock strains a smile, then returns to the office.

John arrives moments later, followed by Harvey and Lily. Each couple holds their significant other tightly, John and Sherlock more discreetly than Lily and Harvey.

The four get called in to Headmaster Card's office after a long wait. John and Lily sit and Sherlock and Harvey stand behind.

"I'm assuming it starts here," Headmaster Card says, holding up Sherlock's flier.

Lily speaks up first. "I contacted Sherlock for his help, but John got back to me. He said Sherlock was having cyber bullying problems, too."

"Oh?" Headmaster Card asks, looking up at Sherlock.

"Lily's were far worse, sir," John gets his attention.

"Here," Harvey says, taking his laptop out and handing it to Lily.

She clicks around and finally hands it over. "Here they are, sir."

Headmaster Card's eyes grow wider than they had at Sherlock's meeting, and he immediately looks murderous.

"I got another message on another website too, sir. One that _nobody _has the address to. It said that they'd get me if they wanted me, even if Sherlock was helping."

Headmaster Card stops clicking around and directs his attention back at the kids. "What happened next?" he asks.

"I decoded the emails," Harvey says. "And…I mean, I guess I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry that I found the address."

"Here it is," John says, handing over the original paper Harvey had given him. "We figured out it must be a locker and locker combination, so yesterday, after school, we came back to find it."

"Did you break in to the school too, Mister Holmes?" Card asks, taking the paper.

Sherlock grins.

John chuckles. "Uh, no sir, it was open."

"Alright," Card says. "Next?"

"There was a library book in the locker," John tells him. "We took the book to the library and found who it belonged to."

"And that was?"

"Tom Jones."

Headmaster Card sighs.

"Anger came over me, sir, and I ran to the football field and kicked him in the balls."

"And I punched him," Harvey adds. "Repeatedly."

Card nods.

"I called the police," Sherlock says. "They're already involved."

"Well, I have no choice then, do I?" Card says. "This school does not tolerate bullying or sexual assault, which this so clearly is. Mister Lucas, you're suspended one football game for beating up a teammate."

Harvey nods. "I'd have expected more than that, sir."

"Let me be clear," Card says. "_I _don't tolerate bullying like this. You, Mister Lucas, did something I can't when I see this happen. Well done. As for the computer hacking, well…one detention."

"Thank you, sir."

"And I expect you to help create a more secure network."

Harvey nods. "Yes, sir."

"One detention for you, Mister Watson. And you, Miss Fox, well, I'll take care of Tom, alright?"

Lily nods.

Headmaster Card excuses them all, and they all file out into the hallway.

"So," John mutters. "That went…really, really well."

"I thought was going to be kicked off the team," Harvey says. "Punching a teammate ain't so good."

Lily wraps an arm around his waist and rests her head against his chest. He strokes his hair.

"Why can't we do that?" John asks Sherlock, fondly watching the other couple.

"Because we would look stupid," Sherlock mutters.

John hits him in the stomach.

Harvey and Lily laugh.

"So, we want to take you guys to dinner," Lily says, smiling more genuinely than she had the entire time they've spent time with her.

"Yeah," Harvey says. "Since I'm suspended a game, I doubt I can play tonight. What'd'ya say?"

John and Sherlock look at each other.

"I'm ungrounded," John says.

"Our detention is tomorrow."

They turn back to Lily and Harvey and smile, then nod.

"It's a date!" Lily cries.

"A double date!" John says.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and walks away. John quickly hugs Lily, pats Harvey's shoulder, then takes off after Sherlock.

* * *

Their dinner later that night is fun and exactly what they needed after a long week. They go to a cute pizzeria, where John and Harvey eat an entire large pizza between themselves and Lily eats most of the smaller pizza that she and Sherlock ordered.

Lily tells Sherlock about the crush she had on him when they were younger, and he blushes furiously as Harvey and John laugh loudly.

"You're so dreamy, Sherlock!" Harvey teases, reaching across the table and pinching his cheek.

Sherlock blushes again and John leans over and kisses his cheek.

Their dinner ends and they go home, John walking Sherlock home first. They kiss at the door and say goodnight, then John leaves for his own home.

* * *

Friday goes by uneventful, and on Saturday Sherlock is very eager to go over to John's house. Clement leaves the house early to meet Sherlock's mother at the office, where they have to go over a bunch of boring documents that Sherlock stopped caring about as Clement was telling him the night before.

John's mother leaves for work at eight, promising to be back no later than three o'clock. John happily says goodbye to her, then sits on the sofa and waits for Sherlock to arrive.

Minutes after Dawn leaves, he does.

John jumps up to answer the door and smiles widely. He pulls Sherlock into the house and shuts the door, then helps Sherlock out of his coat.

"How are you?" John asks, pushing him further into the house.

"Fine," Sherlock says, grinning. He notices John's pajamas, knowing that John hasn't dressed yet, so perhaps John anticipates undressing now.

John leads him to the sofa, where he sits them both facing each other.

It's awkward, at first. Neither of them know what to say or what to do, so they silently look around and don't say anything.

Finally, they lock eyes. Sherlock smiles once, then dives in for a kiss. He pulls John close and gets excited knowing they're not going to be interrupted.

"Hey, hey," John tries, pulling away slightly.

Sherlock continues kissing the corner of his mouth and cheek.

"I wanted to make you breakfast," John mutters, shifting his head to show more of his neck.

Sherlock latches on to his neck. "I'm not hungry," he says through wet kisses.

"We need to eat first," John says, his eyes rolling. "We need—" he groans when Sherlock licks a specific spot on his neck.

Sherlock grins against John's neck and climbs onto John's lap. He grounds his hips down, his jean-covered growing erection rubbing against John's thin-pajama-pants covered cock.

John moans and grabs Sherlock's thighs. He rubs Sherlock's legs, up to his bum, then around his hips to his belt. He undoes it, and Sherlock breaks away to watch as John gets his jeans open and his pants down enough to get his cock out.

John wraps a hand around Sherlock and slowly strokes.

"Ooooh," Sherlock groans, still looking down. His fingers clench around the back of the sofa and his toes curl; the sensation is instantaneously relieving.

"How's that, baby?"

"Brilliant," Sherlock whispers, his eyes blissfully closing and his mouth seeking John's.

John sucks on his thick lower lip, then dips his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, all the while still stroking Sherlock evenly, yet slowly.

Sherlock doesn't beg for more, though he wants to. His mind flashes with words like 'harder' and 'faster' and 'more', but he can't muster _enough _thought to say the words out loud. Instead, he just moans each time John's palm touches the slippery head of his cock.

They continue for minutes, a lot longer than John, and even Sherlock, thought Sherlock would last.

Suddenly, the need to orgasm overcomes Sherlock's body. John's hand is enough and not enough at the same time, so he sits back and reaches for the buttons of his shirt.

"Clothes," Sherlock mutters, quickly unbuttoning. "Off, I need—"

John watches, mesmerized as Sherlock's pale skin peeks out from under the dark blue shirt, and when his nipples come into view, he leans forward and licks one.

Sherlock hisses. So shocked is he by the sudden sensation that he jerks backwards and falls off John's lap, landing right on the floor.

John leans forward and tries not to laugh. "You ok?"

Sherlock scowls.

John's laughter erupts from his lips. He begins to laugh so hard that he falls over and buries his face in his hands.

Sherlock quickly stands and places his hand on his hips, his shirt rumpled off his shoulders and his cock still out of his jeans.

John looks up again and continues to laugh. "I can't take you seriously with your prick staring at me."

"Well, stop laughing and do something about it, then."

John's laughter slows to a chuckle and he reaches for Sherlock again.

Sherlock bends to get his jeans off from around his ankles, and John momentarily wonders if they should go upstairs. But then Sherlock stands, and John realizes that he doesn't really care where or how, he just knows he needs to get Sherlock's cock in his mouth immediately.

John quickly gets his clothes off, too, his being much less difficult because of his loose sleep clothes. Then, he grabs Sherlock and pulls him onto the sofa, pushing him onto the back against the arm. He then snakes down to settle between Sherlock's widespread legs and presses a kiss to the inside of Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock shivers and his heart speeds up. He runs his fingers through John's short hair, then he nearly shouts when John licks his balls.

"God, John," Sherlock mutters, his head falling back when John licks the head. "Yes…"

John just moans in response, then sucks the head into his mouth. He'd done this much before, and he's eager to get the rest of Sherlock in his mouth, so without warning he sucks Sherlock in as far as he can.

Sherlock groans loudly and scratches his own chest, this definitely being the best he's ever felt (physically). Angry red marks stain his skin, and when John looks up to see them, it drives him mad with want.

He comes very quickly after that, the wet, warm sensation being exactly what he needed to send him over the edge.

John sits up as soon as Sherlock's body sags, and Sherlock pushes him so he's sitting back on his heels, still on the sofa. Sherlock sits up and slouches so he can get John into his mouth.

John grips Sherlock's hair tightly, but it only encourages Sherlock to suck harder. He wraps a hand around the base and strokes in time with his mouth movements, and John comes down his throat in no time.

Sherlock falls back onto the sofa and John falls on top of him. Sherlock wraps his legs around John's waist and pulls him in, and John's heart beats quickly, thinking about wanting to be on top of Sherlock again. He strokes Sherlock's sides and thighs, eventually settling his arms on either side of Sherlock's head.

"Amazing," John says, kissing Sherlock lightly.

"Mmm," Sherlock sighs. "Perfect."

"Exactly what we needed."

Sherlock sighs again in agreement.

"Though, I thought it'd have been weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah," John explains. "Brady said it was weird the first time someone went down on him."

"How?"

John shrugs. "I don't know, he said she used too much teeth and not enough suction and that they were both really nervous. You and I weren't nervous at all."

"Well, there's a number of problems with Brady's experience," Sherlock retorts.

"How so?"

"First of all, Brady and whoever he's had oral sex with are not you and I. We're different, we're better. We're mature. And somehow I think our body's already know how to make the other's feel…blissful."

John smiles down at him. "Romantic."

"_And,_" Sherlock goes on. "Brady had sex with a girl. That's obviously an issue for us."

John laughs and buries his face in Sherlock's neck. He lightly kisses and says, "Yeah, I suppose you're right, Sherlock."

"I'm always right," Sherlock says.

"Yeah," John lifts his head. "That's why I love you so much."

"Speaking of loving someone _so much,_" Sherlock says, rubbing John's bare back. "It's Saturday. You told me you'd show me how much you love me on Saturday."

"I thought I just did," John says, kissing Sherlock's neck again.

"Hmm," Sherlock sounds. "I had something else in mind, actually."

John curiously looks up. "Oh?" he asks, grinning.

"I was thinking…maybe…" Sherlock looks at John through his eyelashes and bites his lip, letting his top teeth drag over his red bottom lip. "Maybe some…chocolate chip waffles?"

John laughs loudly and hangs his head. "Fine. But only because you're looking particularly cute today."

"Well, I combed my hair," Sherlock says.

John lifts his eyesbrows. "Did you? Well, then…" without warning, he reaches into Sherlock's hair and mangles it roughly.

Sherlock laughs and tries to roll away, but John has him pinned. He settles for tickling John's armpits, so John squirms and falls off Sherlock, then the sofa.

Sherlock laughs and turns onto his side to look down at John. "Are you ok?"

John laughs and rubs the arm he landed on. "Yeah, fine, you git."

"You started it! And besides, this is payback for earlier."

"I didn't push you earlier!"

"I didn't push you just now!"

John shakes his head and sits up, reaching for his pants. "Well? Come on, then. I'm not making them on my own."

Sherlock sighs and stretches on his back.

John enjoys the show. He licks his lips and his eyes rake over Sherlock's slim body, stopping at the red scratch marks still on Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock looks at John longingly and throws his arms over his head.

"Fine!" John cries. "You don't have to help!"

Sherlock grins and quickly sits up. "Excellent."

John rolls his eyes and turns around to go to the kitchen. Sherlock gets his pants on and follows.

After breakfast (which takes forever because Sherlock distracts John with kissing), John takes a shower while Sherlock sits on the sink of the bathroom and talks to him about his current experiment on mold. John listens and doesn't really say much, not knowing anything about mold or what Sherlock's talking about.

When he's out, they settle on the sofa with warm blankets and Merlin. This time, John talks about how it shouldn't have ended and about other shows that should still be on, all the while Sherlock has nothing to offer and barely even listens.

They do a few other things, including playing in the snow and making hot chocolate. By the time Dawn gets home, they're asleep, wrapped together on the sofa.

Dawn just smiles down at them, leaving them there and going to her bedroom.

John and Sherlock wake refreshed and very happy that they got to spend an entire day alone together.


	15. Chapter 15: Dane

_**A/N: Uploading a little early because I will be very busy tomorrow, as I imagine many of you will, too! Have a nice holiday and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I made myself laugh reading it, so I hope you like the new characters. They're fun. Thanks for reading, please review! **_

* * *

The following Monday is the start of the week before Christmas break. Sherlock (John, really) decides not to take any more cases because of final exams, the Christmas concert, and Christmas next week. John convinces Sherlock to give everything already on his plate his full attention.

When they get to school, they find out that Tom Jones was expelled from school, Vince is suspended until far after break, and Perry suspended for three days, plus they both have to write letters of apology to Sherlock. Sherlock claims he doesn't care about the letters, he just wants Vince to stay away from him, and Headmaster Card promises to do everything he can to ensure that happens.

Sherlock and John both do well on their first exams that day, and they go back to Sherlock's house very happy that evening.

"So," John says, watching Sherlock do more experiments in the snow. "My mum wanted me to invite you over for Christmas morning."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you know? Like usual."

"Even after…everything she's learned the past few weeks?"

"Yeah, of course. It's what we do every year. Christmas Eve at your house, Christmas day at mine."

Sherlock nods.

"She saw us kiss this weekend, Sherlock. When she got home, we were cuddling on the sofa. I'm absolutely sure she's fine with everything."

Sherlock nods again.

"So you'll go?"

Sherlock looks at him. "Yes, John. Of course. Just as long as you can make it clear to your cousin this year that I'm not interested."

John laughs. "Oh, right."

Sherlock smiles and turns back to his experiment.

"Are you excited for the concert on Friday?"

Sherlock looks at him and scowls.

"Hey," John laughs, "I didn't push you to take music _again_."

"But when you say, '_Hey, Sherlock can play the piano!' _It makes people think I _want _to play the piano!"

John continues to laugh. "It's not my fault you're good at it. You could be with the violin group. At least you're the only one playing the piano."

Sherlock sighs. "I do suppose that is true. I just don't like it, John."

"Then I'm sorry for pushing you to do it," John says, kissing Sherlock's forehead.

John catches Sherlock's thin smile. He lays back on the snow once again and relocated his math notes to right in front of his face.

"So…" Sherlock starts after jotting down a few notes. "I'm, uhm...I'm going away over break."

John slowly lowers his book. "What?"

"My brother is taking me to Oxford for a few days, to try to convince me to go."

John bites his lip. "Alright," he finally says.

"Is that ok?"

"Well, of course it's ok. I can't tell you not to go. I'll miss you, sure, but I can't ask you to stay here with me all break."

Sherlock nods.

"We'll do something fun when you get back," John says. "Just you and I."

Sherlock nods again and smiles.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock gets to school before John does. He doesn't know where John is, why he isn't there, and he's distracted as he's trading books in and out of his bag to locker. Finally, he shuts his locker and turns left to go to class.

But he walks right into two people.

"Umf—" Sherlock grunts, stumbling back while the two people stand perfectly still in front of him.

They both laugh.

Sherlock gains his bearings again and looks at the two identical blonde hair, green eyed boys in front of him. They're even wearing the same shirt in different colors and have the same coat on.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," one says.

"You're pretty hard to find," the second says.

"We've sent you a dozen emails—"

"But you haven't gotten back to us!"

Sherlock just eyes them. "Uh…ok?"

"We need your help," they say at the same time.

Sherlock adjusts the bag on his back and stands up straighter, suddenly interested. "Ok?"

The boys look at each other, suddenly in shock.

"We didn't even introduce ourselves—"

"That's so rude—"

"We never—"

"You didn't—"

"But you didn't—"

Sherlock clears his throat and they focus fast.

"Dane Deyes," the first says, holding his left hand out to shake.

"Duke Deyes," the other says, also holding his right hand out to shake.

Sherlock crosses his arms and shakes both of their hands at the same time. It makes them laugh.

"So," Sherlock says as they calm. "What can I help you with?"

"We have a secret admirer!" Duke (Sherlock thinks) says.

"_We _don't!" Dane (Sherlock's almost positive) says.

"Ok, ok, _he _does," Duke says. He then turns to his brother. "You know how much it hurts when you correct me on the 'we's'!"

Dane turns to Duke. "You know how annoyed I get when you think we get to share what we get!"

"I don't even want to share a _girl_!" Duke says.

Sherlock thinks about turning around and walking away, but if he's honest with himself, he's far too intrigued by the twins.

Dane rolls his eyes and they both turn back to Sherlock. "Anyway," Dane says. "I keep getting secret admirer letters and I'd like to help me solve who it is."

"Kay…" Sherlock says.

Dane turns his back to Duke and Duke reaches into Dane's backpack and pulls out a big manila envelope. He hands it to Sherlock.

"These are the love letters I've received," Dane explains. "All delivered into my locker every Friday since school started."

Duke cuts in. "The last says that if he doesn't figure out who she is by Christmas then she'll stop sending him letters."

"She?" Sherlock questions, opening the envelope. He glances at Dane. "What if it's a boy?"

"Then I get him," Duke cheerily states.

Sherlock looks at Duke and can't help but blush when Duke warmly smiles at him. Sherlock shakes his head and looks back at the envelope. "So…" he mutters.

"So are you single?" Duke asks.

Dane sighs loudly. "Not every boy is interested!" he shouts at his brother.

Sherlock answers his question anyway. "Uh, no actually."

"Oh," Duke mutters, audibly disappointed. "Girlfriend?"

"Stop it!" Dane shouts.

Sherlock, again, ignores Dane. "No."

Duke grins. "Well—"

Dane groans. "Come on," he says, turning around and grabbing Duke's elbow. "We'll be in touch, Sherlock!"

"Yes," Duke agrees. "We will!"

* * *

Sherlock follows them down the hall until he can turn into another hall to go to his class.

When he walks in, John is already there.

"Hey, where've you been?" John asks as Sherlock sits.

"I, uh…" he doesn't want to tell John he's got another case. He knows John wants him to focus on school and the concert and Christmas, but he can't help but want to solve something.

"What's that?" John asks, pointing to Dane's envelope.

"It's…uh…"

John glares at him. "You accepted another case, didn't you?"

Sherlock bites his lip and looks up at John through his thick eyelashes.

And really, John can't resist that look. The first time he was unable to resist that look was when they were eight and Sherlock _absolutely needed _John's favorite coat (for an experiment). John pulled it off while they were still sitting outside in the cold, and Sherlock ended up setting it on fire. Of course, Clement went out and bought John a brand new coat right away, and John didn't learn to say no to that look.

John rolls his eyes and sits down at the desk in front of Sherlock's. "Fine," he says. "Tell me about it."

Since their exam was on Monday, the boys spend the whole class discussing and going over Dane's envelope. John laughs at the love letters and Sherlock begins to get annoyed, knowing how serious it is.

John tells Sherlock he'll help with whatever he can, and Sherlock forgives him for laughing at the letters. He doesn't mention to John that Duke seems to like him, though, because he doesn't know what John would do.

* * *

That evening, they go over every single letter again. The Girl gives a few clues on her identity, saying she's in two of Dane's classes, that they have spoken before, and that she has blonde hair. Sherlock thinks that could help Dane narrow it down, so he decides to ask Dane about it in the morning.

After they go over the letters, they go outside to play in the snow, even though Clement told them not to. They end up getting so cold that Clement makes them hot chocolate and he lets them cuddle on the sofa. It's something that rarely happens, and John and Sherlock both enjoy it.

* * *

Sherlock finds Dane the next morning. He's alone at his locker, so Sherlock goes right up to him.

"Hey Dane," he says. "I have some developments."

The twin turns to him. "I'm not Dane, I'm Duke."

Sherlock nearly gasps. He was so sure it was Dane! "Oh, I…sorry…"

The twin smiles and laughs. "Just kidding, I am Dane!"

Sherlock eyes him. "I…uh…"

"I am, I promise!"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I need proof."

"Well, for one, _I_ don't want to make out with you."

Sherlock cracks a smile and looks down at his shoes.

Dane laughs. "_I'm _not the one who wouldn't shut up about the brilliant Sherlock Holmes last night."

Sherlock blushes. "Well, I…"

"We heard what you and Watson did for Lily Fox. Super cool, dude."

"Thanks," Sherlock says, finally looking up at Dane again.

Dane smiles. "Anyway, what did you want to tell me?"

Sherlock goes on to tell Dane to, if he can, take down a list of every girl in each of his classes. He instructs Dane to just jot down a list while he's in each class, and that'll help Sherlock narrow down a list.

"Perfect. Thanks, man," Dane says. "Now, Duke wants to know who you're dating."

Sherlock can't help but laugh. "It's not really public knowledge right now for a reason, if you get what I mean."

"He's not out yet or what?"

"Yeah," Sherlock says. "Neither of us are really comfortable with the public yet."

"Understandable," Dane says. "I'll tell Duke it's none of his business."

Sherlock laughs.

Dane smiles and pats his arm. "I'll get you that list by the end of school, ok?"

"Sure," Sherlock says, saying goodbye to Dane and leaving.

* * *

Sherlock does well on his exams of the day, as expected. John grouses about his history quiz, but he mentions how great he did on his anatomy quiz, so he's quite happy.

As they're leaving the school, they hear their names being called from towards the football field. They both turn to see Duke and Dane approaching them quickly.

"Glad we caught you," Dane says, panting.

"We have the list!" Duke cheerily adds.

Dane stands up straight and turns to his brother. "_We _don't, Duke!"

John chuckles.

The boys both look at John.

"I don't believe we've met," Duke says, smiling.

"This is John," Sherlock quickly mentions, grabbing John's shoulder.

"Partner in crime?" Duke asks.

"You could say that," John says. "Your bickering reminds me of he and I, actually."

"Friends for far too long then?" Dane sarcastically asks.

John looks at Sherlock and laughs. Duke smiles at him.

"So!" Sherlock shouts far too loudly, hoping to distract Duke. "The list?"

"Here you are," Duke says, reaching into his brother's pocket and pulling out a folded up sheet of paper.

Dane rolls his eyes and lets Duke be the star. "I wrote down every girl by class period. I put a star next to the girls I secretly hope it to be."

"And I put a star next to the girls I secretly hope it isn't," Duke says.

Dane turns to him again. "What do you have against Sierra?!"

"She told me to stop acting so gay!"

"Well, maybe you could listen to that advice every once in a while!"

Sherlock and John glance at each other, wondering if Duke is going to be upset by that.

He isn't. "Well, maybe _you_ should shove it up your arse, Dane!"

Dane shoves his brother, then Duke shoves back, then they shake their heads and turn back to their company.

"Sorry," Dane apologizes. "Duke likes to get a bit dramatic."

John chuckles and looks at Sherlock again, this time beaming less than he was a second ago. "Oh, I understand."

Dane and Duke laugh.

"Well," Duke says. "We'd better be off. We have that thing."

"Oh right," Dane agrees. "The thing."

John and Sherlock both look confused.

"See you tomorrow!" Dane cheerily says, turning to walk away.

Duke lingers, though. "Sherlock," he says, stepping towards Sherlock. "This is from me," he adds, handing Sherlock a folded up note. He winks, then follows his brother down the sidewalk.

Sherlock just looks at the note in his hand and tries to pretend John isn't there. He _wishes _John wasn't there, but he is—

"So Duke likes you."

Sherlock bites his lip.

"That's…interesting…"

"Is it?"

"It's just…" John pauses.

Sherlock turns to him. "John, I've been madly in love with you for a really, really long time. You have nothing to worry about."

John turns to him. He looks Sherlock right in the eye and says, "Ok, love. I know."

Sherlock leans forward and is about to kiss John when suddenly John is gone. As is the note.

"Sherlock's got an admirer!" John chants, nearly skipping down the street.

Sherlock grins and follows, finally catching up with John when John stops to cross the street.

* * *

While John is studying for his math exam at the kitchen island at Sherlock's house, Sherlock is re-writing Dane's list to show how many times a girl is in a class of his.

They finish about the same time, so they talk about Dane's list.

"It looks like five girls are in two of his classes," Sherlock says, naming the girls. Lily is one of them.

"Well, you can count Lily out," John tells him.

"Why?" Sherlock asks.

"Uh," John sounds, "Because she's dating Harvey…"

"But that doesn't—"

"It does, Sherlock. You don't go around sending other boys love letters, do you?"

"Well, no—"

"So you can count Lily out."

Sherlock nods in acceptance, finally crossing Lily off the list.

"Four then," John says.

"Yes," Sherlock agrees. "And the other clue to her identity was that she has blonde hair."

"Ok," John examines the list. "Well, you can cross out this one," he points to a name. "She has red hair."

"And the others are blonde?"

John nods.

"Hmm," Sherlock says. "Well, the last clue is that she's spoken to Dane before. This could be easy if he isn't that social."

John laughs.

Sherlock pulls his phone out and takes the note Duke gave him.

"What are you doing?" John asks.

"Calling Duke."

"Why?" John questions.

Sherlock glares at him. "To talk to Dane, you clot."

John glares back, but Sherlock grows a grin and greets Duke on the phone, so John rolls his eyes and goes to the refrigerator.

"Listen, Duke," Sherlock finally says, after exchanging pleasantries with Duke for longer than necessary just to rile John up. "I was actually wondering if I could speak to Dane. I'm nearly finished with his case.—Uh huh.—Thanks, Duke!"

Sherlock smiles widely at John before Dane comes over the phone. "Ok, Dane. There are three girls we narrowed it down to: Heather, Margo, and Penelope. She says you've spoken to her before. Any of them?"

"Yeah," Dane says. "Heather and I talk all the time. She and I are close friends, but she has a boyfriend."

"Oh? Is there another?"

"Hmm…" Dane mutters.

He's silent a second before Sherlock hears: "Penelope would never send you a love letter in her entire life, and she's never even given you the time of day! It's Margo, you idiot!"

Sherlock can't help but laugh at Duke.

Dane gasps. "Yeah, she must be it!"

"So, what are you going to do?" Duke asks.

"I don't know," Dane says.

"Well," Sherlock interrupts. "Good luck."

"Thanks, mate!" Dane shouts. "I owe you one!"

"I know how my brother can pay you back, Sherlock," Duke says. "By letting you date his amazing brother!"

Sherlock laughs and blushes. "Oh, I…"

"He has a boyfriend!" Dane yells. "Ugh. Anyway, see you tomorrow, Sherlock! Thanks again!"

"Bye!" Sherlock says to the phone, then hangs up.

"Why are you blushing?" John immediately asks.

Sherlock sets his phone down. "It's just nice to be appreciated," he jokes.

John glares at him, then steps around the table and kisses Sherlock's cheek. "I appreciate you."

"Oh, really?" Sherlock questions, wrapping his arms around John's neck.

"Yeah, I do," John whispers against Sherlock's lips. "I love you."

Sherlock presses forward and kisses John lightly.

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock decides to check in on Dane. He plans to meet Dane at his locker, but when he turns the corning leading to the hall where Dane's locker is located, he sees Dane much closer and talking to Margo. Suddenly he kisses her, and she gladly kisses back, and Sherlock just smiles, knowing it's worked out.

He turns around to go back to his own locker, or to find John, but he walks right into Duke.

Sherlock stumbles back and Duke smiles down at him.

"It's nice what you did for Dane," he says. "He quite likes Margo. She had a star by her name."

"Oh, well, it wasn't that difficult," Sherlock says.

"You really are quite amazing," Duke says. "I mean, I'm sure my brother could have figured this one out if he really set his mind to it, but I've heard about other things you do. It's quite fantastic."

"Thanks," Sherlock says, cracking a smile.

"And although I do with you'd give me a chance and go out with me," Duke says, sounding pained, "I'm sure you and Watson are quite happy together."

Sherlock's chin drops. "How—"

Duke smiles wide. "You call it deduction, I call it…hmm…" he taps his chin and smirks. "Gay-dar."

Sherlock laughs. "Well, you caught me."

Duke laughs, too. "Good luck then, mate. And if you ever want to hang out sometime anyway, well…" he glances at his brother down the hall. "I guess I'm pretty free from now on."

Sherlock begins to frown, feeling sorry for Duke, but then Duke pats his shoulder.

"See ya!" Duke says, walking down the hall away from Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock finds John and tells him about Dane and Margo, and John is very pleased. He also tells John that Duke figured out that they're together, and John is even more pleased.

Sherlock begs John for more cases, but John tells him that he really does need to focus on school matters. Sherlock disappointedly agrees, and when they get back to Sherlock's house after school, Sherlock practices the piano, as instructed. He isn't happy about it, but John loves listening to him play. After that, they have a nice, quiet evening with Clement.


	16. Chapter 16: Suits

**_A/N: Hello, thanks for visiting this story. I hope people are liking it, or at least reading it. Not much feedback lately but I'm still goin'! _**

**_This chapter has a warning for implied intimacy. Which, I mean, I guess it doesn't need a warning, but...here's one anyway. _**

**_Thanks for reading, please review! _**

* * *

The last day of school for the first term goes by quickly, and in no time, Sherlock's getting ready for his piano recital.

"I love when you wear suits," John says, sprawled across Sherlock's bed.

"I happen to love what you do when I wear suits," Sherlock replies, buttoning his shirt.

"Oh?" John questions, as if oblivious. "Like?"

"Well, there was a few months ago when you gave me a hickey for the first time. I deserve a medal for what I did to hide that from my dad."

John chuckles. "Yeah, that was—"

"And there was that time when we were fourteen and you drooled half the night—"

"And yet you didn't know that I liked you—"

"But my favorite," Sherlock ignores him, "Was when we were eight and my Christmas suit was velvet. Do you remember?"

John looks as if he's trying to remember. "I…"

"You followed me around all night," Sherlock continues, "And continuously stroked whatever patch of fabric you could reach."

John's jaw drops. "I didn't—"

"You did, you _so_ did!" Sherlock stops him. "My arms when we were talking with my mother, my leg under the table when we were eating dinner, my back when we were standing by the fire. You even grazed my arse a few times, John."

"I don't remember that!"

"You didn't notice then," Sherlock explains, "I didn't, either, not even when you touched my bum."

John laughs. "Well? What can I say? You in a suit—"

"I quite like you in suits too, John. Maybe for Christmas you could wear yours?"

John shrugs. "I don't know, Sherlock. I don't like them."

"They're not bad, and your Christmas jumpers are hideous."

John frowns. "Hideous?"

Sherlock goes to his closet and mutters, "Hideous, my love."

John blushes at the name. "Well, maybe I will give it a try."

Sherlock returns to the room and smiles. He's now wearing a bright red tie that goes well with his crisp white shirt and black jacket.

John grins at him and sits up. He reaches for Sherlock and Sherlock steps close enough for John to grab his belt loops. He pulls Sherlock to stand between his legs.

Sherlock grins down and cradles John's face with his big hands.

"I love you," John says, smiling. He runs his hands up the back of Sherlock's thighs, past his bum, to his hips. "I love your perfection in this ridiculous suit."

"_Perfection_—"Sherlock is about to correct him.

"I stand by it."

Sherlock leans down and lightly kisses John. "I love you too," Sherlock replies. "And I…" he bites his lip. "I love your perfection out of your ridiculous jumpers."

John laughs. "Maybe later, babe."

Sherlock kisses him again. "My dad's not here," he whispers. "He's not even coming home; he's meeting us at school."

"We have to be at school in half an hour," John replies, now running his hands up to under Sherlock's suit jacket.

Sherlock rips his suit jacket off and tackles John onto the bed.

They manage to get their clothes off before they make messes in their concert clothes, and a while later, Sherlock is readjusting his tie as John stands behind him in the mirror while stroking his sides.

"You're amazing," John mutters, stepping close behind Sherlock and mouthing at the back of his neck.

"You are," Sherlock says, turning around in John's arms.

"We'd better go," John says, gazing at Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock kisses John's cheek and steps away.

John whimpers and grabs Sherlock's hand. Sherlock pulls him through the room and out the door, and as he closes his bedroom door, he pushes John against the wall and kisses him deeply.

"A-hem," is heard down the hall.

Sherlock quickly backs away and John wipes his lips.

"How long have you been here?" Sherlock questions.

"Long enough," his big brother answers.

Sherlock blushes and looks at his shoes.

"We'll talk later," Mycroft says. "It's time to go."

Sherlock nods and goes down the hall, barely glancing at Mycroft as he passes.

John clears his throat as he walks past Mycroft. "Hello," he awkwardly mutters.

"Good evening, John," Mycroft stiffly replies, following the boys down the stairs.

* * *

They get to the concert right on time for Sherlock to go backstage. He and John lean in to each other to kiss before he goes, but Mycroft stares at them, so Sherlock just leaves without kissing John.

John awkwardly goes to his seat with Mycroft. He and Mycroft sit without really greeting Clement, and Clement eyes them.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," they both quickly reply.

Clement continues to watch them, but the lights dim and the curtain raises, so he looks back at the stage.

They watch and clap for Sherlock each song. A few songs are sang a Capella by the choir, so Sherlock sits back to watch, too. Sherlock looks through the crowd and spots John. They lock eyes and grin at each other, but soon Mycroft glares at Sherlock, so he quickly looks away.

The concert ends after a while and Sherlock stays at the piano to collect his sheet music. He sees John and his family waiting by the door, but he takes his time.

"Hey," Sherlock hears right next to him.

He jumps and looks up.

"I don't know if you know me," the girl shyly says. "I'm Ellery Westbrooke."

"Oh," Sherlock awkwardly says." "What...can I...do for you?"

Ellery takes a deep breath, along with a breath of her inhaler.

Sherlock calmly watches her, obviously knowing she's nervous.

"I heard you help people," she says when she calms.

Sherlock nods.

"I, uhm...I lost a few textbooks. I don't know where they are, and my teachers say that if I don't have them in by the start of second term, I'm in a lot of trouble."

"Oh," Sherlock mutters again. "Well, uhm..."

She frowns and looks at her shoes. "If you can't help me, then-"

"I can," he stops her. "Just...not tonight, ok? I'm really busy," he says, "My brother caught my boyfriend and I having sex, and-"

Ellery's eyes widen and she takes another gust of her inhaler.

"Oh, fuck, I'm-"

She shakes her inhaler again.

Sherlock frowns and stands, grabbing his sheet music. "Email me tomorrow," he says. "We'll talk later."

Ellery quickly nods and scurries away.

Sherlock runs his hands through his hair.

"Hey," John says from the ground.

Sherlock, from the stage, looks down at him.

"What was that?" John asks, chuckling.

"I accidentally told her that my brother caught us having sex and she had a panic attack."

John's eyes bulge out of his head.

"Oh, relax," Sherlock says. "She's the one who was bombarded with the fact."

John rubs a hand over his face. "Come on," he turns away from the stage. "Your dad's taking us out to dinner."

"Yay…" Sherlock mutters, following John through the auditorium.

* * *

Dinner is terribly awkward. Sherlock and Mycroft stare at each other between conversations with their father, and John tries not to make eye contact with Mycroft.

Sure, it's not like Mycroft _saw _them, or anything. But neither boy knows how long Mycroft was in the house or what he may have heard. And just knowing that he knows they're being intimate is enough to be embarrassed and worried of what he'll tell Clement.

It doesn't help that Mycroft starts every story with: "_So Father, I saw_—" or "_I heard_—" or "_This evening_—".

Finally, after a long time of glaring at each other, Sherlock stands. "Mycroft, may I see you a moment?"

Mycroft stands from the table. "Absolutely, little brother."

They walk briskly through the restaurant, both buttoning their suit jackets as they make it to the entrance. They step outside and both briefly hiss at the cold.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Sherlock asks.

"How long are you going to squirm every time I look at you?"

"Are you going to tell Dad?"

Mycroft crosses his arms. "Depends. What are you _doing_?"

"Doing?"

Mycroft raises an eyebrow.

Sherlock catches on. "Nothing. I mean, obviously _something, _but not…_something-something_."

Mycroft sighs. "I was your age when I first did…_something_—"

"Ew."

Mycroft glares. "Anyway," he mutters. "I know about hormones and urges and I know you love John, but I'm concerned, Sherlock. You're not ready for…_something-something._"

"How do you know I'm not?"

"Because you called it _something-something_."

Sherlock sighs. "I guess…I guess you're right."

"How long have you two been doing _something?_"

Sherlock shrugs. "Only a few weeks."

Mycroft nods. "Be. Careful. And I know all parents and older siblings say this, but I mean it, Sherlock. If you need anything, you need to come to me."

Sherlock nods.

"Do you have any questions?"

"I'm a tad curious as to who you, uh…_something'd _with."

Mycroft grins. "I don't kiss and tell," he says.

"What about Lestrade?"

Mycroft blushes. "Answering that would be telling," he replies, turning around to go back inside.

Sherlock laughs. "I can tell that's a 'yes'."

"Be quiet, Sherlock."

"Mycroft and Lestrade, sittin' in a tree—"

"Shut up, Sherlock."

"K-I-S-S-I-N—"

Mycroft reaches over and pinches his arm. Sherlock squirms away and laughs.

* * *

The rest of the evening goes smoothly, and they drop John off at home before returning to the Holmes residence. Mycroft spends the night there, so he and Sherlock stay up all night playing chess and talking. Sherlock enjoys it, because he notices how much he and Mycroft don't spend enough time together. They finally go to bed around four in the morning, and they're both very happy that they spent that time together.

John calls Sherlock around ten with a new email.

"From a…" John pauses, then says, "E. Westbrooke?"

"Ellery, yes," Sherlock says. "Something about losing textbooks?"

"Yeah," John confirms. "She says she takes really good care of her books, so she has no idea where they could be if not in her locker."

"Did she leave a number?"

John gives Sherlock her mobile number, tells Sherlock to apologize for what he said when they met yesterday, then they hang up so Sherlock can call her.

She answers almost right away. "Sherlock?"

"Uhm…" he pauses. "Yes…"

"I thought it'd be you," she says. "Did you get my email.?"

He refrains from saying '_Duh!_'. "Yes, I did."

"I put all the information there," Ellery tells him. "I never misplace my books, and I really, really don't want to be in trouble."

"Did you look in the lost and found?"

"Yes," she says.

"The book lost and found?"

"There's a book lost and found?"

"Yes," he says. "Not many students know about it. It's in the library, a whole shelf. You've just got to ask the librarian."

"Is the library open during break?"

"It should be."

She sighs. "Thanks, Sherlock."

"If they're not there, then you can call me back and I'll help more if I can."

"I hope I won't have to call you," she says. She quickly starts again. "I mean…no, I didn't mean…I meant…I hope…ugh!"

Sherlock can't help but laugh. "I understand, Ellery. And listen, I'm sorry about our meeting yesterday. My mind was otherwise occupied and I didn't have much control over my mouth."

Ellery chuckles. "It's ok, Sherlock. Just a bit weird."

"Oh, I know. Well, call me if you need any more help."

"I will. Thanks, Sherlock!"

He smiles into the phone and hangs up.

Sherlock immediately calls John back.

"Solve it already?"

"Yes, "Sherlock says. "Well, kind of. I told her to check the book lost and found."

"There's a book lost and found?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, mister."

Sherlock glares at his phone. "Come over," is all he says, then hangs up.

John is there in minutes.

After that, they spend the entire day together with Clement. He makes them go grocery shopping with him, and he ends up having to separate them because they begin to bicker in the shop. On the drive home, they're still fighting, and John flicks the back of Sherlock's head from the backseat. Clement pulls over and makes Sherlock get in the back with John, and he tells them to hold hands until they make up (something he always had to do to Sherlock and Mycroft). Eventually, Sherlock and John get over their tiff and John kisses his cheek, and they go back to normal for the rest of the day.


	17. Chapter 17: Christmas Eve

_**A/N: This chapter seems really long and rambling, and if it is I'm sorry! Hope you enjoy anyway. It's Christmas at the Holmes residence. Thanks for reading, please review! **_

* * *

Tuesday is Christmas Eve, and both boys are incredibly excited. John is excited to give Sherlock his gift, and Sherlock is glad John is going to finally stop humming Christmas carols every time there's a lull in conversation.

Sherlock tries to stay out of the way all morning because of everyone setting up for the party. He decides to try to read in the sitting room, but his mother and aunt are in there chatting.

"Sherlock, my love," Rebecca says when they pause.

Sherlock looks up over the top of his book.

"Come here, my pet," she demands.

He gets up and goes to her without question. She pats the sofa between her and Ramona, so he shimmies his skinny butt between them.

Rebecca wraps an arm around his shoulder and wipes the curls out of Sherlock's eyes. "My beautiful son," she says, kissing his cheek. "How was your concert?"

"It was fine," Sherlock says, a bit annoyed. This is the first day Rebecca's been home since before his concert. Sherlock can't help but think that she should have been there instead of asking about it later.

"You played well? Perhaps later you could give us a show."

"Maybe," Sherlock mutters.

Rebecca strokes his hair and the back of his neck. "Where is John?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"Why don't you go fetch him? Get some fresh air, hmm?"

Sherlock nods. "Sure, Mother."

Rebecca kisses his cheek. "You're so handsome, my darling. Just like your father."

Sherlock smiles. "Thanks, Mother." He pats his aunt's knee and stands from the sofa.

He quickly leaves the house after that, narrowly dodging the cake entering the house and the florist with the flowers. He makes his way to John's house as fast as he can, eager to get away from his noisy block.

Sherlock notices that Dawn's car isn't in the driveway, so that means John is home alone. And usually when John's home alone, he stays up in his bedroom because the living room is too cold and he doesn't seem rude by staying up there.

So Sherlock decides to scare John. He climbs up the tree right next to John's bedroom window and jumps onto the roof under John's window. It's tilted, so he has to crawl very carefully to the window.

He knocks on the window first, knowing that alone would scare John. But when John doesn't answer right away, he frowns. He figures John is in the bathroom, since there's an empty glass right next to John's computer (which is right next to the window), so he quickly opens the window and falls in.

"Umf!" he grunts, falling roughly on the floor. "Damn…" he sighs, rubbing his elbows.

Sherlock then hears the toilet flush next door, so he quickly gets up to close the window, then falls back on the ground when he hears John exit the bathroom.

He hears John enter the bedroom, and he has to stifle a laugh. His stomach turns in anticipation, then he sees John's feet under the bed on the other side.

Sherlock sees his towel drop, so he grins and quickly stands.

"BOO!" Sherlock yells, holding his hands up like claws.

John screams loudly and throws his pants at Sherlock. "Dear fucking god, Sherlock!"

Sherlock laughs and falls onto John's bed, nearly crying because he's laughing so hard.

John grabs his pants and slips them on, then tackles Sherlock on the bed.

Sherlock continues to laugh, and John can't help but begin to laugh with him. He falls off Sherlock and lays next to him.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock says, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Saw the opportunity, so I took it."

John hits Sherlock's chest. "You arse."

Sherlock's laughter dies down and he looks over at John. John looks at him, then leans over and kisses his cheek.

"I got kicked out of my house," Sherlock explains. "My mother sent me over here to stay out of the way."

"Well, good," John says, grabbing Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock smiles at him.

* * *

After spending an hour trying to coax Sherlock to eat, John finally succeeds and they eat hot soup outside in the cold snow.

"By sitting out here, I might get sick," Sherlock tells John. "But if I get sick, I might not have to go to Oxford."

"Oh, yeah," John frowns. "When are you going?"

"The day after tomorrow."

John wraps his arms around Sherlock and digs his nose into Sherlock's cheek. "I'll have to soak up as much of you as I can before you go."

"I'll only be gone three days," Sherlock tells him. "I'll even be back before New Year's."

"Good," John says. "I was invited to Brady's party. I'm sure you can go, too."

Sherlock makes a face.

"Fine, fine," John concedes. "Maybe I'll hang out with you instead."

"My brother has a New Year's party," Sherlock says. "Maybe we could go there instead."

"You don't want to go to a party with _our_ peers, but-"

"Our peers are Vince and Perry. My brother's peers are-"

"Lestrade?"

Sherlock chuckles. "Yeah. Just him."

John smiles at him. "Well, we'll talk about it later, ok? Because as much as you hate it, Brady is my best friend."

Sherlock frowns. He opens his mouth to reply, but John stops him.

"Yes, you're my best friend," John says. "Berk."

"Well," Sherlock replies, "You've only known me practically your entire life, and—"

"And I've seen you naked." John winks.

Sherlock blushes. "Shut up." 

* * *

They finally wander back to Sherlock's house around four; John in his best suit and Sherlock yet to dress. They walk into the house and Clement hears them before he sees them.

"Mycroft?!" Clement yells from somewhere near the kitchen.

"No! It's us!" Sherlock shouts back.

Clement appears in the hallway. "Where the hell is your brother? I needed him here half an hour ago!"

Sherlock and John shed their coats, then begin to follow Clement back to the kitchen.

"Why do you need Mycroft so urgently?" Sherlock asks.

Clement shakes his head, clearly flustered with something. "It's nothing, love. Go upstairs and get dressed, ok?"

Sherlock looks confused, but he grabs John's hand and drags him upstairs.

Sherlock dresses quickly, for guests are set to arrive very soon. He puts on a black tuxedo with a black bowtie, and John beams at him.

"You're so bloody handsome, it's unreal," John says as they exit Sherlock's bedroom.

"So are you," Sherlock tells him. "I love your suit, I'm so glad you wore it."

John smiles at him. They get to the stairs, but before they step down, they pass Mycroft's bedroom and hear shouting. The words are muffled, they can't make out what's being said, but they know Clement is shouting at Mycroft. The boys look at each other, shrug, then go down the stairs.

Guests arrive soon, and John is greeted warmly by Sherlock's family. They've known each John for a very long time, of course, so it's perfectly normal for them to act this way towards him.

"John!" Sherlock's extremely friendly Uncle Asher, says. "I knew you'd be here, friend. My brother tells me you and Sherlock have finally taken your friendship to the next level. Wonderful, my dear, just wonderful. We all knew anyway! If it wasn't my Declan it'd be our little Sherly, that's what I tell my brother!" Asher pats John's shoulders, then leaves to greet the other guests.

John laughs, glancing at the blushing sixteen-year-old. "Sorry, mate," he tells Declan.

Declan scowls at his dad. "No worries, I just wish he'd quit saying that. I have a girlfriend!"

John laughs again.

Sherlock's mother only has one sister, Ramona, but Sherlock's father has four brothers and one sister, which means John hears Asher's speech many times from each of Sherlock's uncles and aunts. He makes it down the line of Clement's siblings, (Asher, Beatrice, Dallon, Elijah, and Fletcher), and enjoys all of what they have to say.

Sherlock's aunt, Beatrice, asks John a million questions about what he plans to do after school.

"I think I want to be a doctor, ma'am," John tells her.

"A doctor? My first husband was a doctor," she says. "Wicked man, but I'm sure you'll do just fine, John!"

John doesn't quite know whether to thank her or not, so he excuses himself to find Sherlock.

Dinner is served once everyone arrives, and Sherlock and John are placed at the 'kid' table. It's not quite a kid table anymore, since the ten occupants are aged between ten and seventeen, but nobody at the kid table is served wine.

Sherlock's youngest cousin, Gabby, is seated next to John. She's ten, and for the past three years in a row, she's sat next to John and beamed at him all through their meal. She always tells John how magnificent he is, using her giant vocabulary (and sometimes French), and John laughs it off every year.

"Oh, Gabby," her big sister, Nora, says. "Don't you know that John is Sherlock's boyfriend now?"

Gabby and the next youngest, Liam, look confused.

"Hasn't he always been?" Liam asks.

The table laughs.

"It's actually quite recent," John tells the young kids.

"Well, I don't care," Gabby says. "If it's quite recent, then John was my boyfriend first."

The table laughs again.

"Hey!" Sherlock cries, grabbing John's arm.

Gabby grabs John's other arm and yanks him towards her. She sticks her tongue out at Sherlock, then smirks.

John laughs. "She's got a point, Sherlock."

Sherlock pretends to pout and sits back in his seat.

After dinner, the adults sit around to have coffee, while the kids spread out through the house to do their own thing. Sherlock, John, and four of Sherlock's cousins get out a Monopoly game to play to pass the time.

They elect John to be the banker, because none of the Holmes children trust the others to not cheat (since the Easter Fiasco of 2010), and while he's distributing the money, Sherlock sees Mycroft slip off into Clement's study.

"Gabby, come here!" Sherlock calls to his younger cousin.

She happily goes to his side. "Yes?"

"Roll the dice for me, ok? Don't buy anything. I'll be right back."

Gabby smiles widely and sits on the pillow Sherlock was occupying.

Sherlock whispers to John that he'll be right back, kisses his ear, then follows Mycroft.

Sherlock slips into the study as quietly as he can. He doesn't even think Mycroft hears him at first, but from his chair facing the fire, Mycroft greets him.

"Sit down if you're going to linger," Mycroft says.

Sherlock noiselessly travels through the room, then sits at the chair next to his brother's.

"What'd you do?" Sherlock simply asks after long minutes of silence.

"I fucked up, Sherlock," Mycroft says.

"Did you kill someone?"

Mycroft glares. "No."

"Did you get Lestrade pregnant?"

Mycroft glares, but can't help but chuckle. "Don't be absurd."

"What did you do that was so bad, then?"

Mycroft takes a deep breath. "Well, to put it simply, I invested poorly."

"So you're…broke?"

"Broke? No. Unemployed? Yes."

"Good," Sherlock tells him.

Mycroft looks up.

"You hated that job," Sherlock amends. "Even Dad knows—"

"Dad doesn't know it enough to be terribly angry with me," Mycroft tells him.

"Does Mother know?"

Mycroft snorts. "Mother fired me."

Sherlock's jaw drops. "Now, that's unbelievable."

"How?"

"You're her golden child," Sherlock says. "You're _her_, you're—"

"Well, not anymore," Mycroft says. "And perhaps not for a while."

"What does that mean?"

"I've got to go away, Sherlock."

Sherlock scowls. "What? Why? Where? How?"

"I've got to earn my position back," Mycroft explains, "So Mother is sending me to the United States to work for Uncle Asher's outsourced branch. I don't know how long, perhaps a year, perhaps only a few months."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Find a new job, something better. You can't just leave."

"You're not a child anymore, Sherlock. You can't beg me to stay when a new opportunity arises for me."

"This isn't an opportunity, Myc. This is punishment!" Sherlock shouts.

"Lower your voi—"

"No! This is a load of shit. What am I to do? What's going to—"

"For once, Sherlock, please. I beg of you, do not make me think of only _you_ in this decision. I have to do this."

"And what does Lestrade think, hmm? Surely he isn't on board with this."

"As much as you tease, little brother, Lestrade and I aren't—"

Sherlock holds up a finger to stop him. "We will discuss _that_ load of crap later. You can't go, Mycroft."

"I have to."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just scowls at the fire.

"The good news is that you don't have to do to Oxford with me this week."

Sherlock glances at him. "Why?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

Sherlock stands from his seat. "Now, _that_ isn't fair!"

Mycroft reaches for Sherlock's hand. "Sherlock, please—"

Sherlock yanks his hand away from Mycroft. "No, I won't calm down. Ugh, this isn't fair!" Sherlock quickly storms out of the room, slamming the door shut as he goes.

Though nobody else notices the teen rush through the house, Clement does. As Sherlock gets up the stairs, Clement excuses himself from conversation with his siblings and follows Sherlock.

He lightly knocks on the door and goes in without being asked.

"Go away," Sherlock mutters from his window sill, where he is sitting perfectly and gazing outside.

Clement goes to him instead and places a hand on his shoulder.

Sherlock looks up at him, angry tears staining his cheeks.

"You talked to Mycroft?"

"Yes," Sherlock says. "How could you do this? How could you just send him away like this?"

"I have to, Sherlock. Not to blame anybody, but this was your mother's doing. She's the boss, she's—"

"He doesn't even like this, Dad. This isn't even his career, it was a passing job like a bagger at a shop or one of those people who never fail to fuck up my coffee order."

Clement chuckles. "They wouldn't fuck it up if you didn't order the most complex things."

Sherlock frowns and looks out the window again.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," Clement squeezes his shoulder. "Can we just…deal with this after everyone leaves, please?"

Sherlock sighs. He knows hiding away in his bedroom is rude to John and his family, so he turns away from the window and wipes his eyes.

"We'll talk later," Clement says, kissing Sherlock's head.

Sherlock nods and stands from the window.

Clement goes to the door and opens it, and he's shocked to see John on the other side.

"I saw you guys heading up here, I just thought I'd make sure everything's ok?"

"Fine, John," Clement says. "But I'll leave you two for a moment."

Sherlock and John stay in the hallway, knowing they shouldn't be long upstairs.

"What's up?" John curiously asks.

"It's a long story, ending with Mycroft's moving to America."

John looks shocked. "What?!"

"Yeah, a work thing. I just…" Sherlock rubs his face. "I'm a bit upset by it."

"Understandably so," John says, rubbing Sherlock's arms.

"We should get back," Sherlock mutters into his hand.

John reaches up and takes Sherlock's cheek, then turns Sherlock's head to look at him. "It'll be ok."

Sherlock nods, then leans over and kisses John lightly. "Thank you."

John nods, then takes Sherlock's hand and leads him downstairs.

* * *

They rejoin the game, and Sherlock lets Gabby be "on his team". She calls them the "I Love John Club", and Sherlock's mind is temporarily shifted to enjoying his family instead of being angry at his immediate family.

After they're playing for a little over an hour, Clement finds Sherlock and his younger cousin, Declan, and asks them to go to the den.

The boys follow, and they find Clement, Rebecca, Mycroft, and Asher waiting for them.

"As you know now, Sherlock," Rebecca says. "Your brother is leaving for America in the morning."

Sherlock scowls. "Yes."

"And Declan," Asher says to his son, "Your attitude and grades are severely slipping, young man."

Clement steps in. "Sherlock, we've agrees to let Declan stay here until he-"

"Gets his shit together," Asher says.

Both teens nearly jump out of their chairs.

"What?!" Declan yells at his dad.

"So you're shipping one kid off and bringing another in?!" Sherlock yells at his parents.

"We aren't shipping one off," Clement tries to reason with Sherlock. "Mycroft knows what he needs to do. And we've got plenty of space here, Declan won't even be taking Mycroft's bedroom-"

Asher steps in again. "The bottom line, boys, is that we are a family. My brother has agreed to help me and I'm helping him. Mycroft is going to America and you're staying here. That's final."

Sherlock and Declan fall back against their seats. Mycroft stands silently in the corner.

"Anything else?" Rebecca asks.

The boys shake their heads.

"Good," Asher says. He kisses each of the boy's head, then leads everyone out of the room.

Gifts are distributed not long after, but there's a shift of tension in the air. Sherlock and Declan are busy pouting, Mycroft is silently drinking his fifth glass of wine in the corner. The parents of these particular Holmes are less enthusiastic about the party, but Clement and Rebecca still attempt to be pleasant hosts. Everyone else seems oblivious, but John knows something more is up.

Once everyone begins to leave, John notices Mycroft quickly slip out of the house before anyone notices. He politely says goodbye to everyone, then he and Sherlock retreat to Sherlock's bedroom.

"So..." John starts as Sherlock begins removing his clothes. "Do you want your gift?"

Sherlock looks at him as if he'd forgotten John was there. "I'm sorry, John. I'm afraid I don't feel very much in the Christmas spirit anymore."

"It's ok," John says. "It can wait until tomorrow."

Sherlock nods and unbuttons his shirt.

"What happened?" John finally asks. "The full story. Declan included." He sits next to Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugs. "My parents are sending Mycroft to America. And apparently sending one kid away means they need another, so Declan to going to live with us for a while."

"And go to our school and stuff?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I guess."

"Well that's not bad, is it? Declan's fine, you get along with him. He's a nice enough kid."

Sherlock just shrugs again and pulls his shirt off.

John wraps an arm around him and rests his chin on Sherlock's shoulder. "But he's not Mycroft, I know."

Sherlock sighs.

"He'll be back in no time," John says. "You won't even notice he's gone."

"Perhaps."

John rubs his nose on Sherlock's soft skin and kisses his shoulder. "I'm here for you, love."

Sherlock nods, then turns his head to John. John looks up and kisses him.

John leaves not long after, and as Sherlock is saying goodbye, Mycroft returns. He's frantic and angry and rushes into the house.

Sherlock watches Mycroft, then turns back to John. "I'll see you tomorrow I love you goodnight," he kisses John quickly, then rushes inside.

Mycroft is pacing his bedroom when Sherlock gets up there. Sherlock just stands by the door and watches Mycroft.

Finally, Mycroft talks. "I'm done listening to you, little brother."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You made me think Lestrade was actually interested!"

"Anyone with eyes knows Lestrade is interested-"

"Apparently not, Sherlock! I went right over there, knocked on the door, and kissed him."

Sherlock begins to laugh. He's never seen his brother fuss over another person, and the sight is hilarious. "You idiot!" Sherlock cries. "Words help!"

"I'm not listening to you anymore," Mycroft says. "You were wrong, you didn't see, you-" he pauses. "What do you mean?"

"Words! You can't just make a move without further indication that you're going to. John and I danced around being romantic for _years_ before we finally kissed, and right before we kissed, there were _words_. You probably just caught him off guard, that's all."

Mycroft sighs and sits on his bed. "I don't know, Sherlock. I-"

Mycroft is cut off by his phone ringing. He fishes it out of his pocket and checks the caller I.D.

"It's Lestrade!" Mycroft shouts, throwing the phone to Sherlock.

Sherlock continues to laugh as he answers. "Hello?"

"Sherlock...where's Mycroft?"

"Having a panic attack because apparently he's never had feelings before."

Mycroft glares. "Sherlock!"

Lestrade takes a deep breath. "As am I," he mutters, "Can I, uh...will he take my call?"

Sherlock holds the phone out for Mycroft. Mycroft hesitates, but takes it.

"Hello?" Mycroft answers. From there the conversation is one sided, but Sherlock hears Mycroft say, "Oh.-You do?-Oh, Greg, that's-Yes, I'll be there.-"

Mycroft hangs up smiling.

"Well?"

"He does like me," Mycroft says. "I...this is great..."

"I told you!"

Mycroft smiles up at his brother. "Thanks, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiles back and sits next to Mycroft. "So..." He frowns. "What time are you leaving?"

"My flight is at ten in the morning," Mycroft says.

"I'll go to the airport with you," Sherlock offers.

Mycroft shakes his head. "We'll say goodbye here."

Sherlock frowns deeper. "Why?"

"It's just something I need to do," Mycroft tells him. "I'll be back in no time."

Sherlock nods.

Mycroft rocks his body, nudging Sherlock. "Be good, ok?"

Sherlock nods.

Mycroft stands from his bed. "I'll be back, alright? Go to bed. See you in the morning."

Sherlock stands and follows him out.

Sherlock doesn't fall asleep right away, he just lays in bed thinking about the evening. Mycroft leaving and Declan staying is quite the news to receive all in one evening.

Sherlock can't help but dread Declan staying, just a little bit. He and Declan are only a few months apart, and ever since they were young, they've competed. Sherlock knows he's smarter, if only by a little bit, but Declan is outgoing and makes people laugh and has always been charming. They're two very different people, and Sherlock can't help but be afraid people will like Declan more.

Then, Sherlock realizes it only matters to him what one person thinks: John. And John's known Declan long enough to still fancy Sherlock more. So Sherlock smiles in the dark, sends John a quick text saying "Merry Christmas, I love you.", then goes to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18: Christmas pt 1

_**A/N: Christmas is being split into two parts because the final product ended up being waaaay too long. Hope you guys don't mind. Thanks for reading!**_

_**This chapter is rated M! **_

* * *

John wakes early after only a little bit of sleep because he's worried about Sherlock. He doesn't know why Mycroft was upset when he got back last night, he only knows that there was a lot of tension in the house, and Sherlock doesn't do well with conflict.

He gets up and goes downstairs to get some coffee, and he's really shocked to see Harry there. First of all, it's only six-thirty and that's far too early for Harry to be up (unless she hasn't even gone to sleep), and second of all, she hasn't been home since their fight a few weekends ago, so he's a bit nervous as he enters the kitchen.

"Hey, Johnny," Harry says as he enters the kitchen.

"Uh, hey," he mutters, eyeing the coffee.

She grabs it before he can and pours his a cup. She applies the sugar, the way he likes it, and hands it to him.

"Oh," he says. "Thanks."

She weakly smiles as he takes the first sip. She continues to stare at him.

Finally, he sets the mug down and takes a deep breath. "What?"

"I'm sorry, John," she says.

John looks at her; sees the pure apology in her eyes. She's never apologized before; not when she accidentally pushed him out of a tree and broke his arm when he was eight; not all the times she came home drunk or high and interrupted his studying or sleep; not even that time one of her friends scratched the hell out of the car with a key, blamed him, or for what their dad did afterwards.

"I, uh…" He can't say it's ok. It's not.

"I know it's not ok," Harry says, reading his mind. "I shouldn't have hurt you. I was just upset, that's all. How would you feel if someone kissed Sherlock?"

"I wouldn't like it," John agrees. "But…I didn't kiss her, Harry. I'm sorry, blaming her is wrong, but I really didn't do anything."

"I know," she tells him. "She explained the whole thing. She's, uh, not very open about this whole…me being a girl, thing…"

John nods. "I understand."

"It's odd, how different people accept things. I was fine with it the first time I figured it all out. I always knew I was different anyway. What about you?"

"What? The whole…the-love-of-my-life-is-a-boy-thing?"

Harry smiles. "Yeah, that."

John shrugs. "I don't know, I don't think I ever really put much thought into it. I loved him before I knew what love was, before I knew what gay meant. I loved him before anyone told me that I should like girls."

Harry continues to smile at him. "That's great, John. Really."

"Thanks," he says, sipping his coffee again. "So you and Clara, you're—"

"We're…something, that's for sure."

"Something. Something is nice, though. Other people are nothing with her."

"That's a great way of thinking," Harry tells John. "She's coming over today. As a friend, you know? Her family isn't very Christmas-y. Finally a family less in touch with each other than ours."

John tries to chuckle, knowing she's trying to somehow make a joke, but it's unfunny how true that may be.

"Are you going to tell everyone that Sherlock is your beau?"

John makes a face. "Beau?"

Harry laughs. "The apple of your eye, your main squeeze, your—"

John stops her by laughing. "Ok, ok. Uh…" he pauses to think. "I hadn't thought about it. I guess…maybe I will. I don't know. Depends, I guess."

"On?"

"On whether or not Jeanette follows him around all evening."

Harry laugh. "Yeah, she does that, doesn't she?"

John laughs, too. "I guess I'll tell them. What could go wrong? Mum knows. She's alright with it. Isn't she?"

Harry nods. "Of course. She wants you to be happy."

John nods in understanding.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"At his house, I guess. Mycroft is leaving for America this morning, so I imagine he and Mycroft are saying goodbye."

"Why is Mycroft going to America?"

John shrugs. "I don't even really know."

Harry pats John's shoulder. "Well, I need to get dressed. I've got to go pick Clara up. Grandma will be here around eleven, alright?"

John nods.

Harry's about to leave the room, but she doubles back and takes John in an awkward hug. "Merry Christmas, Johnny Buddy."

John cracks a smile and hugs back. "Merry Christmas, Harry Bear-y." 

* * *

John calls Sherlock around seven, but Sherlock doesn't answer. John doesn't mind, instead he takes the time to online-shop for Sherlock's birthday present.

Every single year, no matter the situation with his family or even that year he had the flu for two weeks (over Christmas and Sherlock's birthday), he's gotten Sherlock both a Christmas and birthday gift. Some years, Sherlock gets only one large gift from his parents, and it takes the fun out of opening gifts twice, so John's always made it a point to make it worth Sherlock's while.

For Christmas, John is giving Sherlock a few vinyl records of classical music. He knows Sherlock loves classical music (listening as much as playing), and Sherlock has expressed numerous times how gorgeous the scratch of the violin sounds on a record player (his love proved true one summer when all they did was lay in the study to listen to Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles from Clement's original Revolver record).

But now John has no idea what to get Sherlock for his birthday. Not only is he limited on funds, but Sherlock really is difficult to shop for. John searches for clothes, thinking perhaps getting Sherlock a new tie or something, but all he finds are silk boxers that he'd love to feel against his skin while they're being warmed by Sherlock's.

John licks his lips at the thought, and notices that his mouth had been hanging open while staring at the model wearing the boxers. He shakes his head and picks up his phone, sending Sherlock a quick text to pass the time.

**To Sherlock Holmes:** Miss you. Come as soon as you can. ;)

"What the hell?" John says out loud, then erases the wink-face and clicks send.

He doesn't get a reply, not that he expected to. He stretches in his computer chair and yawns, realizing the coffee has done nothing for his sleep depravation, so he decides to take a nap.

* * *

John doesn't know what time it is, how long he's been asleep, or even really his own name when he feels someone snuggle against his back and wrap an arm around his chest. He sighs, content, and alarmingly not at all alarmed. Then he feels warm kisses against the back of his neck and he knows there's no need to be alarmed at all.

"How are you?" John slurs against his pillow.

"Alright," Sherlock sighs. "I needed to get here as soon as possible. I need you."

John groans in relief as his body stretches, turning around to grasp Sherlock tight. "Mmm…what happened?"

Sherlock shifts down to bury his head in John's chest. "My brother is gone. That's all."

"Did you talk?"

Sherlock nods. "He told me to be good. He said I can go visit. You and I both, maybe. He said to continue to help people, and that Lestrade will still be in touch."

"Good, baby," John murmurs, his eyes drifting closed once again. "Why was he so upset last night?"

Sherlock chuckles. "He went all the way over to Lestrade's flat to kiss him. And Lestrade was so shocked he didn't say anything."

John laughs, his eyes still closed. "Words help."

"That's what I told him!"

John's chuckle slows and he yawns again.

Sherlock kisses the middle of John's chest. John rubs his back and feels soft t-shirt under his fingertips.

"Go back to sleep," Sherlock whispers.

John doesn't even nod before he drifts off.

* * *

John wakes briefly a few times. The first time, he sees Sherlock's black hair under his nose. The second time, he sees Sherlock's hip and hears Sherlock typing away at his laptop. The third time, he hears Sherlock on the phone.

The last time he wakes, he feels far more refreshed. He still doesn't know what time it is, but he knows that if it was anytime near eleven, someone would have woken him up.

He opens his eyes and sees white. Beautiful white. Marble, alabaster, even more pure than snow. The white shifts and muscle slithers under it. John immediately longs to bite.

"Sherlock…" he sighs.

The white shifts down until Sherlock is face to face with John. He grins. "Welcome," he says.

"Hmm," John sighs again, puckering his lips for a kiss.

Sherlock complies, and John lets his lips go slack so he can really feel Sherlock's tongue and teeth and neediness.

John lifts a heavy arm and places his hand on Sherlock's bare chest. He pulls his lips away and looks down, loving the look of Sherlock's pale chest.

He rubs Sherlock's skin, from his neck to belly button. He toys with Sherlock's nipples and kisses him deeply, swallowing Sherlock's surprised gasps when John rolls the hardening buds between his fingers.

"Sherlock," John sighs, rubbing his hand down smooth skin, dipping his fingertips into trousers.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asks.

"Can I…" John starts. Then stops.

Clearly embarrassed, John feels less so when Sherlock grabs his hand and pushes it lower; Sherlock sucking in his already thin stomach to allow John more room to slip his hand into his jeans.

"What do you want?" Sherlock practically purrs.

John should be asking him, since his hand is halfway down his jeans and he's reaching for the slippery head of Sherlock's cock. But he's going to make a request.

"Sherlock," he breathes, shifting to lick at Sherlock's neck. "Can I…can I fuck you?"

Sherlock bolts up into a sitting position in an instant. "What?!"

John's slightly slower. With his hand still in Sherlock's pants and his fingertips playing with the sticky fluid inside, he's a bit distracted. He looks up at Sherlock and leans up on an elbow. "What?"

"That was incredibly arbitrary!"

John shakes his head, as if lost. "Sorry, how? We're in bed, I just thought—"

"Arbitrary in that we haven't even talked about it, John. I need warning before you just ask something like that."

John pulls his hand out of Sherlock's jeans. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, John," Sherlock shakes his head. "Not yet. We can't…we need to talk about it, we need to be sure, we need to be prepared."

John takes a deep breath and nods, understanding that much.

"We haven't even tried anything like that, John. And I'm sorry, but I'm just not ready."

John nods again. "Ok, ok I'm sorry, Sherlock. Really, I'm sorry."

Sherlock nods. "Alright."

"I love you," John honestly says. No ulterior motives in the words, just pure honesty.

Sherlock places a hand on his cheek. "I love you too," he says, leaning in and kissing John again.

John pushes Sherlock back down and works his lips away. "Can I still…" he starts, then trails his hand down Sherlock's chest again.

Sherlock nods. "Yes, please…"

John grins, kissing Sherlock again while undoing his belt and jeans.

Sherlock's trousers and pants are shoved away in no time, and John's got his hand wrapped around a nice, hard prick. He strokes it well, hoping that he knows by now what Sherlock likes. He presses his thumb to the slippery head when Sherlock's hips roll up, and Sherlock cries out in pleasure.

John's on his side against Sherlock, so his erection is pressing against Sherlock's hip. He likes he feeling, if not wishing for a bit more, but stroking Sherlock feels good enough already.

But Sherlock, always knowing exactly what John wants or is thinking, in any situation, reaches over and pulls John out of his loose pajama pants. He grabs John with the hand nearest John's body, so they don't have to cross arms, and begins to stroke as hard and as fast as John is.

And then it's sort of a race, really. Their tongues swirl together lustfully, their hands fly between them, and John thinks he's going to win by bringing Sherlock off first, but then Sherlock pulls away, throws his head against the pillow while arching his back, spreads his legs while flinging an arm over his head, and moans as loudly as he possibly can (which is pretty much very fucking loud).

John stands no chance. If it wasn't the baring of his gorgeous neck, the bending of that flexible spine, the spreading of those mile-long legs, or the stretching of that pale chest, it'd be the fantastically loud, extremely sexy moaning. John's body hardens as he comes all over Sherlock's hip.

His hand tightens and reflexively quickens as he comes, and that sends Sherlock over. Sherlock's hips still in an outward thrust, and he spills all over John's hand and his own belly.

"Oh my god," John sighs as he rolls onto his back.

Sherlock climbs on top of him and kisses his face, neck, and chest.

"My god," John repeats. "You're so fucking hot, Sherlock. How?"

He feels Sherlock smirk against his neck. He grabs Sherlock's hair, yanks until their face to face again, and kisses that stupid smirk off his face.

* * *

John's showered and dressed by ten thirty. When he gets back to his bedroom from the shower, Sherlock is dressed in a proper button-up shirt with a tie. It's not a full suit, and John finds it an incredible look on him.

"Weren't you wearing a t-shirt earlier?" John recalls, pulling at Sherlock's tie.

"I was," Sherlock says. "I got here and saw your wonderfully sleepy form on your bed, so I put on one of your t-shirts to not ruin my shirt."

John smooths his hands down the soft fabric of Sherlock's shirt. "It's very nice, love," he tells Sherlock, then kisses him lightly.

* * *

Harry is back at exactly eleven. John doesn't ask where she's been for the past few hours, but he's pleased to not smell alcohol on her.

John kindly greets Clara, even though she is a bit awkward towards him. The couples sit in the sitting room with each other, silently chatting with their other. Sherlock tells John about an experiment he's been working on, and Harry and Clara are talking too low for the boys to hear.

Finally, Dawn arrives home with her mother, and John and Harry happily greet their grandmother. John is so happy to see her because, unlike everyone else in John's family, their grandmother favors him more than Harry. Only subtly, but ever since they were kids, people would feel sorry for Harry, excuse her behavior in saying she had a right to act that way, and ultimately would baby her. Not their grandmother; John, being her only grandson, is her baby.

"Grandma, you remember Sherlock, right?" John asks as she finally lets him go.

John's grandma also happens to be the only person in the family who has never found Sherlock a bit odd or off putting.

"Of course!" she cries, pulling Sherlock into a hug. "My, my, you've gotten so tall!" she tells Sherlock. "Can't keep up, John?"

John and Sherlock laugh.

"It's very nice to see you again, ma'am," Sherlock says when she lets him go.

"Child, I've known you for a million years, please call me Lucille."

Sherlock doesn't have time to reply before she moves to meet Harry's friend.

Dawn and Lucille get to cooking, and Harry and Clara pretend to help. John decides to make a pie, so he and Sherlock take the ingredients to the dining room table because the kitchen is fully occupied.

"I'm going to tell my family that we're going out," John tells Sherlock after a while.

Sherlock shifts uncomfortably as he plays with an egg. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I don't want to feel like I'm hiding you. Why? Should I not?"

Sherlock shrugs. "They already don't like me as is, why add this to the list of why?"

"They don't dislike you," John tries. "And I don't care what they think. Your family is fine with it."

"My family pretty much expects homosexuals," Sherlock says. "So many men and all."

John laughs. "Well, I guess my family will have to deal with it. I'm going to tell them."

Sherlock sighs. "Alright, if you really want to."

"Besides," John adds. "My mother and grandmother are the only two people whose opinions I actually care for. My mum knows and my grandmother loves you, I'm not worried."

"Ok, John."

John kisses Sherlock quickly, then instructs him to stop playing with the eggs or else he's going to be cleaning up the messes when he breaks them.


	19. Chapter 19: Christmas pt 2

**_A/N: Here's the second half of the Christmas chapter! No warnings needed. Hope you enjoy, please review!_**

**_Extra A/N: Shameless plugging of my newest story _A Sherlock Carol. _If you haven't read it, please give it a read!_**

* * *

****The rest of John's family arrives in the afternoon, and they all say hello to Sherlock, even if they are just quick "hi's". John's cousin, Jeanette, hugs Sherlock tight and smiles as wide as she can when she says hello to him.

"I just turned fifteen, you know?" she says, and he quickly excuses himself.

Sherlock stays next to John all evening, which isn't odd. They help set the table and set out the food, and Dawn thanks them profusely.

"You boys have been such a help today, thank you!" She kisses John's cheek and hugs Sherlock.

"You're welcome, Mum," John says. Since they're alone, John tells his mother his plan. "I'm going to tell everyone about Sherlock and I."

Dawn pauses and bites her lip.

John looks at Sherlock, who looks scared.

"John, I don't..." Dawn starts. "I'm fine, love, I told you that. But everyone else..."

"I want Grandma to know," John says. "If not anyone else, just her."

Dawn runs a hand through her hair. "Oh honey, Grandma knows!"

John's jaw drops. "What?!"

"She asked, so I confirmed. I'm sorry, John, I didn't know you wanted to make a grand announcement."

"What do you mean she asked?"

"Just a little while ago, when you two disappeared, she asked if you've taken your friendship to the next level. I told her you had."

"What'd she say?" John asks.

"She said it's wonderful," Dawn says, distractedly fixing a fork on the table. "You know your grandmother, John. You could probably kill a man and she'd say he deserved it, then make you a pie afterwards."

John sighs, half in relief and half in exasperation. "I wanted to tell her."

"I'm sure she'd love it if you told her, John," Dawn says, patting his arm. She smiles at Sherlock too, then leaves the boys to talk.

"Well...I guess I'll tell my Grandma later, then," John says.

"And everyone else?"

John shrugs. "Obviously my mum has no problem with telling someone if they ask, so it's alright."

Sherlock nods.

John takes his hand and squeezes it tight. "I love you," he says, then pulls Sherlock close and kisses him.

"I knew it!" they hear in a high-pitched voice.

They break apart and see Jeanette watching them.

She laughs. "I totally knew it."

"Jeanette-" John tries.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," the teen says. "Way to go, John."

John rolls his eyes and shoves his cousin. "Shut up. Don't say anything."

"I won't!" she cries, then takes her phone out and leaves the room.

* * *

Their early dinner is awkward. Jeanette is seated next to John, who is next to Sherlock. Jeanette's two sisters are near them, but Harry and Clara are near the adults.

None of the teens talk, which makes it awkward, and all through the meal, Jeanette and her sisters never put their phones down. They're busy viciously texting away, and John can't help but watch them. He thinks they're being rude, but he can't say anything to his cousins.

Then John's phone vibrates in his pocket. He rolls his eyes, feeling like a hypocrite, and takes his phone out.

**From Sherlock Holmes: **They're talking about us.

John looks up at Sherlock, looking confused. Sherlock eyes his phone, so John replies.

**To Sherlock Holmes: **What? Who?

In seconds, there's a reply.

**From Sherlock Holmes: **Your cousins. I thought they were, so I just glanced at Emma's phone and saw the text, "I saw them kissing!"

John sighs when he reads it. He exits out of his conversation with Sherlock and sends a group text to his cousins.

**To Jeanette Williams, Emma Williams, Sara Williams: **Stop gossiping about Sherlock and I! It's none of your business! Thanks a lot, Jeanette.

All three girls get the message at the same time, and each of their jaws drop. They glance at John, who raises an eyebrow at each of them, then they all get back to their phones.

**From Jeanette Williams: **They don't count!

**From Emma Williams: **Don't be upset, it's not like nobody expected it.

**From Sara Williams: **Oh who cares if you're a big poof now, John?

John lowers his phone and glares across the table at Sara. "Don't call me that!" he shouts, not caring that he yelled it in the middle of dinner.

Everyone at the table looks at the kids.

"You're dating a boy, John! Isn't that what you are all of a sudden?!"

"What?!" Fiona, their mother and Dawn's sister, cries.

"You don't have to use that word, Sara!" John shouts. "And no, it's not _all of a sudden!_"

Sherlock slumps in his chair and downs the last of his glass of wine. Harry pours herself more.

Fiona speaks up again. "John is…"

Dawn directs her attention to her sister. "Dating Sherlock? Yes, and if you've got any sort of problem with that, you can say it to _me _and not my innocent son."

"Listen—" Fiona starts, then begins discussing things with her sister.

"At least I'm only dating one boy," John says to his cousin. "Unlike you. Who was it last year? Bobby _and _Tyler?"

Sara points a finger at him. "Now you listen, you little—"

Nobody notices John's grandmother stand from her chair. All they hear is her hand smack the table.

Everyone instantly pauses.

"Thank you," Lucille politely mutters. "Now, everyone stop your damn fighting. It's Christmas."

Everyone starts at once. "But—"

"No buts!" she tells the group. "My darling John and his lovely boyfriend, Sherlock, are not hurting any of you. You girls leave him alone. And Fiona, if I hear you say to your sister that she's raising her kids wrong ever again…well, let's just say that you had better not."

Fiona and her daughters fall back against their chairs.

"Now, anybody else?" Lucille asks.

Everyone shake their heads, so Lucille sits back in her seat and begins eating again.

Jeanette nudges John to get his attention. He looks at her, still feeling angry.

"Sorry," she says, "I didn't think—"

John wraps an arm around her shoulders. "It's ok," he says, sideways hugging her.

From down the table, Emma says sorry, too.

"I thought it was going to happen eventually," she says.

John smiles up at Sherlock. "Yeah, me too."

Sherlock tries to smile, but he can't.

"Hey," John rubs his shoulder. "You ok?"

Sherlock nods, then begins to pick at his food again.

Sara doesn't apologize to John, and that doesn't really bother him. She just eats her food while everyone else begin to talk, but she doesn't participate.

After their grandmother distributes gifts, everyone leaves. While saying goodbye, Lucille tells John that she loves him very much and that she's proud of him, so John doesn't really mind everything else that happened that evening. All he wanted was for his grandmother to be ok with it anyway.

Harry and Clara leave not long after everyone else does, and Dawn tells the boys goodnight. They retreat to John's warm bedroom, and they snuggle up in John's bed.

"Do you want your gift yet?" John asks, holding Sherlock's cold hands close to his chest.

Sherlock eagerly nods.

John kisses his nose, then disappears. Sherlock's gift is under the Christmas tree, so he rushes downstairs to get it.

When he returns, Sherlock is sitting cross-legged on the bed with a large box in front of him.

"Oh?" John mutters, going to the bed.

Sherlock pushes the box towards John, as if nervous. He has the look of a little boy who had made a macaroni necklace for his mother. He looks proud.

John smiles and hands Sherlock his gift. "Here you go, baby."

Sherlock eagerly grabs it and rips it open. He gasps when he sees what it is. "Records, John? These are marvelous!" He grabs John's face and pulls until their lips are touching. They smile while their lips are still together.

Finally John pulls away, and he delicately unwraps his gift. The box is quite large, but it's obvious that whatever is in the box isn't the same size.

Inside the box, there are millions of pieces of packing peanuts.

"What the hell?" John mutters, digging through the peanuts until he feels a smaller box.

He pulls it out and is shocked to see the latest and greatest iPhone. His jaw drops. "Sherlock…"

"You like it?"

"Yeah, I bloody love it! But…" John sighs. "I can't accept this, love."

"Why?" Sherlock isn't even looking at him; he's busy taking out and examining the records. "Yours is a piece of shit and your mum wouldn't '_waste money_' on a new one."

John picks up his current phone. The screen is chipped and he can barely hear through the speaker, but that doesn't change the fact that the gift was way too expensive.

"This is way too much, Sherlock. Way too much."

Sherlock lowers the discs and looks at John. "I want you to have it. You need it. Love is taking care of someone, and I'm taking care of you."

John cracks a smile. "But…"

Sherlock grabs John's hand. "You need it. If you dare try to give it back, I'll dump you."

John smiles wider. "Alright. Thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock leans over and kisses John once more, then lays back on John's bed to spin the records around above his head.

* * *

The boys fall asleep for a while, holding each other close, but Sherlock has to go home around two in the morning. He groggily gets out of the bed and pulls his coat on, all the while John sloppily grins at him and tries to pull him close again.

"I have to go," Sherlock says, chuckling when John tries to grab his bum to pull him closer. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay…" John finally accepts.

John walks him downstairs and they kiss at the door.

"I love you so much," John whispers against Sherlock's lips.

"I love you too," Sherlock says back. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, baby."

Sherlock smiles, kisses him again, then turns to leave.

John falls asleep right after Sherlock leaves, and he's very happy about his Christmas.


	20. Chapter 20: New Year's Eve

The rest of their week goes by uneventful. Since Sherlock doesn't have to go to Oxford, they do spend every day together. They do experiments and John bakes Sherlock cookies, plus they spend time in the snow and try not to get colds.

Almost a week after Christmas, on New Year's Eve, John goes over to Sherlock's house early in the morning. Sherlock told him to be there by eight, and John happily complies.

Clement throws the door open when John rings the doorbell. "John!" he cries.

John looks stunned. "Uh, yes sir?"

Clement pulls John into the warm house and John immediately hears classical music. "He's been at it all night," Clement explains. "He hasn't given that record player a rest yet. Shut it off and you'll be a hero, John."

John laughs and takes his coat off. "Sorry, sir. I thought it was a good gift."

"Oh it is. In moderation, it's _fine_, perfect for him even. But it hasn't stopped all night!"

"Ok," John mutters, heading to the den. "It'll be off in a tick."

John goes into the room to see Sherlock on his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling with the record player next to him. He's holding his own violin over his chest and a cup of coffee in his other hand.

"Sherlock, love?" John ventures. "You ok?"

Sherlock's head drifts to the side to look at John. "Miserable," Sherlock mutters.

John sees his face fully now. Under his eyes and nose are red and he's terribly pale. John notices that his nose sounds plugged, too.

"Are you sick?"

Sherlock sighs and turns his head again. "Unfortunately."

John can't help but laugh. "You haven't slept? You've got to sleep!"

"Can't," Sherlock says. "Too uncomfortable."

John sighs. "Come on, you big baby. Up to bed."

Sherlock lets John pull him off the ground. John shuts off the record player.

"Thank you!" John hears from the kitchen.

He laughs and takes Sherlock upstairs.

"Are you hot?" John asks him.

Sherlock shrugs. "You tell me."

John rolls his eyes. He touches Sherlock's cheeks and forehead. "I think you've got a fever. You feel cold?"

Sherlock nods.

"Get under the covers," John instructs. "I'm going to get some vitamins."

"John!" Sherlock cries as John goes to the door.

"What?"

"I feel awful, John."

"I know. I'll be right back."

"Wait," Sherlock stops him again. "Come back."

John goes back to the bed.

Sherlock gets up onto his knees and wraps his arms around John's neck.

John tries to pull away. "Get off, Sherlock. You're sick."

"Come on John," Sherlock tries. "I'm not sick, come on."

John laughs while pushing Sherlock away. "You're disgusting! Get off!"

"I want you John, please!"

John manages to get Sherlock off of him and pushes Sherlock onto the bed again. "I'll be right back."

Sherlock pouts. "Hurry!"

John quickly leaves and rushes downstairs. He finds Clement in the kitchen and tells Clement what's going on. "I think he's got a fever," John explains. "Vitamins, orange juice, soup? Probably just a little cold, but—"

Clement places a hand on John's shoulder. "John," he laughs. "I've been a father for twenty-four years. I know how to handle sick. But you need to get out of here. Wouldn't do well with you sick right after him, would it?"

John sighs, knowing Clement is right. As much as he doesn't want to leave Sherlock, even more than that does he not want to be sick. "Alright."

"Go say goodbye while I get his tea and juice ready."

John nods and heads upstairs.

"I've got to go," John whispers to Sherlock's sleeping form. "I'll check on you, ok?"

"Hmm? Why?" Sherlock slurs.

"I don't want to get sick, love!"

Sherlock pouts.

John kisses his cheek. "I love you, ok? Rest easy."

"Love you," Sherlock says.

John rubs his back once, then leaves.

* * *

John doesn't want to stay home alone all day, so after a while he calls Brady. Brady tells him that a group of them are going ice skating and that he'd planned to call John anyway, so John agrees to hang out with them.

He meets them at the skating rink at one o'clock, just as Brady said to. Brady's already there with Jenna Darling. John is shocked to see her with Brady. Brady's his best friend, and he's a nice enough guy, but he's usually far too shy to talk to any pretty girl at school.

But they're close and flirting with each other, and John's seeing both of them even acting bashful together. John's glad they look so happy, especially after seeing Jenna so miserable after her case.

"Hey you two!" John greets as he approaches.

"John!" Jenna cries, attacking him in a hug. "Where's your other half?"

"Oh, he's sick," John tells her. "And I definitely didn't want to pass up on an opportunity to see Brady ice skate."

Brady blushes and looks at his shoes.

"Are you bad at this, Brady?" Jenna asks, chuckling.

"I've gotten better!" Brady tries. "I've been practicing!"

John laughs and pats his shoulder.

More of their friends join, including their other best friends Lyle and Joseph. Both of their girlfriends, Sam and Lauren, are present as well.

"I feel like a seventh wheel," John says as they rent their ice skates. "Everyone's coupled up and I'm just…here."

Jenna laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulder. "I invited a few friends, too. If one shows, you can pair with them."

"And if it's a guy who in no way wants to ice skate with a boy?"

"I only invited girls," Jenna explains. "You wouldn't mind hanging out with one of my girlfriends, would you?"

"Of course not," John says. "I just feel like I'm tagging along with the couples."

"Someone will come," Jenna tells him, then takes her turn in line to get skates.

After skating three laps around the ice with Jenna and Brady, John spots another girl from school. She's a girl he's seen Jenna with a few times, mostly since the stuff with Amy went on.

Jenna spots her at the same time, then she grabs John's hand and pulls him to the entrance of the rink.

Jenna hugs the girl before really greeting her. "So glad you could make it," Jenna tells her. "We haven't seen each other all break!"

"I know!" the girl cries. "It's been far too long, honey!"

Jenna grabs John and pulls him to her. "You know John, right? John Watson, from school. John, you know Alex?"

John gasps in realization, having not remembered her name. "Alex, of course! How are you?"

Alex smiles warmly at John, then Jenna pulls her onto the rink, too.

John and Alex skate behind Brady and Jenna for a few laps, but after a while they break away and skate alone. They talk about school and Alex's football team, and John tells her about how he watches football.

John can tell Alex likes him, or else she's really good at acting interested in him. He doesn't see himself as a charmer, or that he leads people on (honestly, he's never even had the chance to 'lead anyone on'). But Alex obviously likes him.

That doesn't mean he's any less polite than he would be with anyone. When Brady asks if Jenna wants a hot chocolate, John asks too. He buys her a cup, with whipped cream, and she beams at him. He politely smiles back.

They sit at the table next to Jenna and Brady to drink their hot chocolate.

"So, do you like ice skating?" John asks.

Alex nods. "I love it. I used to come all the time as a kid, but not so much anymore. What about you?"

"I like it alright," John says. "I always wanted to try it when I was younger, but I never had a chance."

They continue talking about ice skating, then about movies, then about music. They find that they have a lot in common, and Alex just appears to be more smitten with John.

Finally, Brady and Jenna ask if they want to go see the newest Disney movie, so John is glad that they'll have at least two hours of not finding out that they have more in common.

They get into the movie theater and the girls sit in the middle of the boys. John doesn't mind not sitting next to Brady, but he does wish Sherlock was there.

About halfway through the movie, John feels Alex's fingers brush his. He doesn't think anything of it, he assumes it was an innocent accident, so he doesn't call attention to it. However, a minute later, John feels her fingers again. He glances at her hand, seemingly innocent next to his, but then she completely slides her hand under his and intertwines their fingers.

John clears his throat and pulls his hand away. He continues to look at the movie screen, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex lean towards Jenna.

"Oh, fuck," he hears Alex whisper (loudly) a second later. Then Alex leans over to him. "Sorry, John. Jenna just told me that you're gay."

He chuckles. "I'm not really gay," he whispers.

"I thought men who date men are gay," she tells him.

He doesn't really feel like giving her a sexuality lesson in the middle of a Disney movie, so he lets her comment slide. "I do have a boyfriend, that much is true."

"Why have you been so nice to me then?" she asks, genuinely curious, and a little disappointed.

"Because it's nice to be nice to people," John explains. "You're really cool and I'm glad I got to hang out with you today."

Alex slides her arm into his and squeezes. "You too, John. Thanks."

After the movie, they have dinner. John feels that Alex is much more laid back without the pressure to impress him, so they have more fun than they'd previously been having. He's glad their misunderstanding was cleared up.

John walks home after dinner and decides to call Clement to check on Sherlock.

"He's feeling a lot better," Clement tells John. "If you'd like to come over, you can. I doubt he's contagious anymore. And I made far too much dinner if you're hungry."

"I just ate, actually, but I will be right over!"

John hangs up with Clement and rushes over to Sherlock's. Clement escorts him to the den, where Sherlock is back to playing his records as loudly as possible. He does turn the volume down when John arrives, though.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" Clement offers again. "I made spaghetti."

John isn't really that hungry, but spaghetti sounds good. "Sure, I'll take some!"

Clement smiles and leaves the boys alone.

"How are you feeling?" John asks, pushing Sherlock's hair out of his eyes.

Sherlock winces at John's cold hands. "Fine," he says.

"You look better. Did you rest?"

Sherlock nods. "I only just woke up."

"Good," John says. "You needed it."

Sherlock nods again. "What did you do today?"

"I went on a date."

Sherlock's eyebrows fly up and he stares at John.

"I'm kidding!" John laughs. "I hung out with Brady, Jenna, and Jenna's friend Alex."

"Alex? Male or female?"

"A quite lovely female, if you must know."

Sherlock nods. "She didn't stand a chance."

"She did try to hold my hand."

Sherlock glares.

John grins widely.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and directs his attention back at his discs.

"You really love these?" John asks.

"Oh yes, John. I really do. Listen to this," Sherlock grabs a different disc and puts it on. He closes his eyes and contently smiles as the tune starts with high violin cords.

"Wonderful, love," John says.

"Wait, it hasn't even gotten to the best part."

They listen through the whole song, Sherlock grinning widely when his favorite part plays. John kisses Sherlock's jaw.

Clement serves John his second dinner and gives both of the boys juice. Then he leaves them alone once more.

Sherlock starts another disc while John begins to eat. This one has a lot of piano, and John wishes he could hear Sherlock play something like it.

"You know," Sherlock says. "One day…"

John takes a drink of his juice and thinks maybe Sherlock is going to say one day he'll play a tune like this for him.

Sherlock continues. "…I'd quite like to suck you off to one of these songs."

John snorts so hard that juice shoots out of his nose.

Sherlock just grins.

They continue to listen to the records nearly all night, until Clement goes into the den to remind them that it's New Year's Eve. The boys had almost forgotten, so they join Clement to watch television at midnight.

Clement shares a bit of champagne with the boys. John drinks his happily, but Sherlock sips at his and makes a face.

At midnight, they kiss, even though Clement is with them. But Clement takes his phone out to call Mycroft. He explains that Mycroft is getting ready for the Time Square celebration with Sherlock's cousin Brook. After Clement talks to Mycroft for a few minutes, he hands the phone to Sherlock and they talk for nearly half an hour. John doesn't mind, of course, he doesn't mind talking to Clement.

John leaves a while later. He kisses Sherlock lightly before he leaves, and tells Sherlock to rest well.

John falls asleep quickly when he gets home, thinking about what a great (if not a bit awkward) day he had. He hopes Sherlock feels better tomorrow because he wants to spend the day with him (hopefully listening to records while Clement is out of the house). Then John thinks about what to get Sherlock for his birthday, and thinks of a great gift.


	21. Chapter 21: Birthday

_**A/N: Hello and thank you for the reviews last chapter. I want to especially thank guest reviewer Jess for the very, very kind review! It was much appreciated and exactly what I needed to want to write today. Thanks to everyone, of course. Reviews are always appreciated. Hope you all enjoy! **_

* * *

On Saturday, John decides it'd be a good time to buy Sherlock's birthday present. He checks money in his bank account, and unfortunately he only has half of what he needs for his purchase. He doesn't really know where else to go besides Harry, and he really hopes she could help him.

So he calls her.

"So," he starts after a few minutes of chatting. "I have a question."

"Of course," Harry says.

John's rarely ever asked anything of Harry, but she does have a few favors to cash in.

"I was just wondering," he continues. "If you could lend me some money?"

Harry laughs. "For?"

"Sherlock's birthday present," John tells her. "I really want to get him a new pair of really nice headphones, but I only have half the money. I was just wondering-"

"John, Johnny Buddy," she stops him. "Say no more. Tell me how much you need."

John tells her the amount and she tells him it's no problem.

"After everything, I guess I do owe you something, John."

"I'll pay you back," John says. "Gladly, in time."

"Don't worry about it," she says. "I'm driving to town in a few hours, I'll drop the money off then, ok?"

"Alright," he says. "Thank you, Harry. So much."

"You're welcome, John."

John hangs up and makes himself busy until Harry arrives. As soon as she gets there, she takes him to the electronics store he wants to go to get the headphones. He buys a bright purple pair, knowing Sherlock will love them. And Clement will be glad to be able to not hear his loud records anymore.

* * *

School is set to start again on Monday, so Sherlock's uncle Asher returns on Sunday with Declan. They get Declan settled in his new room, and Asher stays for Sherlock's birthday dinner.

"Brook says Mycroft is getting on perfectly," Asher tells Clement. "Mycroft is in good hands with my boy, even if Mycroft is the older one of the two."

Clement nods. "I knew he would be."

The three teens at the end of the table silently stab at their food. John actually tries to eat, but it's far too awkward to eat while the other two are just moving their food around their plates.

"So, uhm," Declan finally starts after a long while. "I start at your school on Monday. Any, uh…any teachers to avoid?"

John knows Sherlock would say to avoid all of them, so he answers before Sherlock can. "Well, since you'll be in our classes, I can say that all of our teachers are fine, if not only a big difficult."

"Cool," Declan says. "What about kids? Bullies?"

"A ton," Sherlock answers.

Declan looks at John for answers.

"He's not really exaggerating," John says. "But there's a guy named Vince who would be someone to look out for."

"Oh, right. Vince," Declan says, as if he knows all about him.

Sherlock looks at him curiously.

"What? Our dads share DNA, if yours knows, mine knows."

Sherlock can't help but agree with that logic. He shrugs and continues picking at his food.

"Any girls worth chasing?" Declan asks.

John looks at him. "I thought you have a girlfriend?"

Declan shrugs. "She dumped me. Long distance isn't really her idea of a real relationship, I guess."

John laughs. "Alright, well…let's see…girls…"

Sherlock raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, do go on."

John laughs and continues. "Well, there are a few girls I'm sure you'd like, Declan. Unfortunately the best ones we've met over the past few weeks are newly taken, but…" John pauses, remembering his 'date' with Alex. "Actually, I may be able to set you up. Not that you're going to have any trouble with girls."

Sherlock eyes him again. "And what does that mean?"

John glares back. "You shush."

Declan laughs.

They have cake before Asher leaves, then he says his goodbye to Declan. "If you'd like, you are welcome home every weekend. I'll send for you on Friday afternoon and you can be back Sunday night."

Declan just agrees, and then his father leaves.

"Well," Clement announces after Asher leaves. "You've all got a big day tomorrow. Get some rest, all of you."

Clement kisses Sherlock's head, kisses Declan's head, and hugs John tight before heading upstairs to his bedroom.

"See you boys tomorrow," Declan says, following Clement.

Sherlock leads John to the door and they step out into the cold.

"It's upsetting that we don't get to spend all day together tomorrow," John says, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and holding him close.

"I agree," Sherlock says. "But you said that on our first day back you'd give me a new case."

John laughs. "I did say that, didn't I?"

Sherlock excitedly nods. "Something really fun, preferably. Maybe another theft, or a murder. Or—"

"I'm not giving you a murder."

"You are absolutely no fun," Sherlock pouts.

"Aaaaand," John goes on. "Tomorrow is your birthday. What do you want to do?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Probably get away from Declan. Probably want to get away from the school day."

"Well, why don't we hold out on a case for another day and have a nice, romantic evening together? Just you and I at my house?"

"Your mother won't be there?"

John shakes his head and rubs Sherlock's back. "She is going to work tomorrow afternoon at three."

Sherlock nods. "Well, I guess I'll just have to get out of dinner with my mum and dad."

John smiles, then leans in and kisses Sherlock. Sherlock eagerly kisses back, as if he hasn't kissed John all break.

John finally pulls away first, to breathe, and presses his forehead against Sherlock's. "Easy, easy," John whispers. "Tomorrow. Anything you want, birthday boy."

"Anything?"

"Anything," John says. "Although, I do hope you go for something sexual, I'd gladly help you with an experiment, too."

Sherlock grins. "I'll think of something, ok?"

John nods and kisses him again. "I love you."

"I love you too."

John smiles, kisses him again, and leaves.

* * *

The next morning, Clement takes both Sherlock and Declan to school together. Clement tells Sherlock he can do whatever he wants for his birthday, and if that means having dinner with John, that's fine.

Sherlock and Declan get into the school and Sherlock takes Declan to the office to get his locker and schedule. Clement and Asher had made arrangements previously, so all of Declan's stuff is in order.

Sherlock takes Declan to his locker, and Declan asks where his is.

"Right here," Sherlock tells him, leaning against the one next to Declan's.

"Oh? Right next to mine?"

"Well, it's alphabetical," Sherlock explains. "John's is around the corner."

Declan nods in understanding. "So, Brook called this morning. He says that he and Myc are set to start work today. One day closer to getting Mycroft back."

Sherlock turns to get into his locker. "Yeah, I guess. I talked to Mycroft, too. A bit odd that Mycroft called when I woke up, and he hadn't been to bed yet."

Declan laughs. "You get used to it. Brook's been in New York for four years."

Sherlock nods. He's about to reply, but someone pats his back. He turns around, excited to perhaps see John, but it's Dane and Duke.

"Hello, Sherlock!" Dane happily cries.

"Hey guys," Sherlock greets.

"How was your break?" Duke asks.

"It was ok."

"Any more cases? Save any more lives?"

Declan looks curiously at Sherlock.

Sherlock laughs. "Lives? No."

"Well, we have something for you," Dane says, reaching into Duke's backpack.

"I picked it out," Duke says.

"Oh? You didn't have to," Sherlock tells them.

"It's nothing, really," Dane says.

Sherlock takes the package and opens it, finding a Rubik's Cube inside. "A Rubik's Cube?"

"Smart people always love these things!" Duke cries.

"It's true," Declan joins. "I have, like, eight of them."

The three others look at Declan. Duke's eyes spark.

"Well, hello…" Duke says.

Sherlock smiles. "Dane, Duke, this is my cousin Declan."

"Are you single?" Duke questions.

Declan opens his mouth to answer, but Dane grabs Duke's arm before he can.

"Come on," Dane pulls his brother away. "See you later, Sherlock! Nice to meet you, Declan!"

"Yes, very nice!" Duke calls, then turns around to walk with his brother.

Declan chuckles. "They're fun. A bit like Tweedledee and Tweedledum."

Sherlock, familiar with the story of Alice in Wonderland, laughs.

He turns back to his locker to put the Rubik's Cube away when somebody else appears behind him.

"Sherlock?" a small voice asks.

Sherlock turns around to see Ellery. "Ellery, hello. What can I do for you?"

Ellery takes a puff of her inhaler, then says, "I found my books! In the book lost and found, just like you said. I won't be in trouble!"

"That's marvelous!" Sherlock cries.

"I just wanted to thank you," she adds. "And wish you a Happy New Year."

"Thanks, Ellery. You too."

Ellery gives him a quick smile, then glances at Declan.

"Well, hello," Declan says to her, grinning.

Her eyes grow wide and she gasps. "Hi!" she quickly squeaks out, then scurries away while shaking her inhaler.

Declan laughs and turns back to his locker, like Sherlock. "She's like a cute little mouse!"

Sherlock laughs.

"So, you've got a lot of friends?" Declan asks.

"What makes you think that?"

"Three people today have said hello to you. You've even gotten a gift!"

Sherlock considers this and realizes Declan is right. "Yeah, I guess so."

John finally finds them as they're leaving their lockers. He warmly greets Sherlock with a quick hug and says hello to Declan.

"I've got something for you, love," John says.

Declan begins to step away from them. "I'll catch up with you guys later, then. Give you a bit of privacy."

"Don't you need me to show you to your class?" Sherlock asks.

Declan spots a group of girls down the hall and begins towards them. "I'll manage," he says with a wide grin. Then he leaves John and Sherlock alone.

"A present?" Sherlock asks as Declan leaves.

"You could say that."

"A case? You said we'd wait a day on the cases."

John smiles. "That's the surprise." He hands Sherlock a paper with a print out of an email on it.

Sherlock reads the email. "Kennedy Pound. Someone's vandalizing her car?"

John nods. "And see? It says here it's happened at school, at home, at her job, and once when she was at an appointment."

"We may be dealing with more than a car vandal, then."

"How so?"

"Someone could be stalking her."

John's brows knit together. "Oh. I didn't think of that."

Sherlock bites his lip. "Kennedy isn't in any of my classes. I'll text her during first period."

"Good," John says. He discreetly grabs Sherlock's hand and kisses it, then begins to pull him down the hall.

* * *

Sherlock does text Kennedy during first period.

**To Kennedy Pound: **Hello, Kennedy. It's Sherlock Holmes. I got your email and I'm willing to help.

He gets a reply almost instantly. He leans low in his seat so he can hold the phone under the desk.

**From Kennedy Pound: **Sherlock! Thank you, you're such a damn dear. My parents are wicked mad about my car, but I have no idea who's doing it!

Sherlock thinks of any way to go with that. He could take a sample of the paint and try to find out where it came from, then search stores to find who's bought it, but that seems like a stretch. He could stake out anywhere that Kennedy's car is to watch for a culprit.

**To Kennedy Pound: **How often are the vandalisms and do you have any photos of them?

Minutes later, Sherlock receives a long message of a few photos. They all give the date of each incident, and there isn't any sort of pattern of the incidents. But the photos are all shapes, maybe an artist's sign or a gang. Sherlock finds it all very curious.

**To Kennedy Pound: **I'll be in touch as soon as I figure anything out, ok?

**From Kennedy Pound: **Thanks, love. You're a gem. Also, could you get me your cousin's number? Lol!

Sherlock can't help but laugh.

Sherlock talks to John about it while they're waiting for their second period teacher. Sherlock shows John the pictures Kennedy had sent. John examines them.

"What do they mean?" John asks.

"If I knew, I wouldn't need your help," Sherlock sarcastically retorts.

"I am not above hitting you on your birthday," John tells him.

"Sherlock, it's your birthday?!"

Sherlock looks around for the voice and sees Lily smiling down at him.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Sherlock says.

"Happy Birthday!" Lily cries, hugging him.

"Oh…" Sherlock mutters, patting her arms. "Thanks."

"The four of us will have to do dinner again, yeah?"

John nods. "Sure!"

Lily smiles at them again, then goes to her seat.

Through the class, Sherlock thinks of who to go to for help with this one. He doesn't know what the symbols mean, or if they're just arbitrary symbols. He scrolls through the photos again while waiting for his third period class to start.

"What are you looking at?" Declan asks behind him before third period.

"Oh," Sherlock exits out of the text from Kennedy. "Nothing."

"What were those? Symbols?"

"Uh…yeah. I can't figure out what they are."

Declan holds his hand out, and Sherlock reluctantly places the phone in his hand.

"They're band symbols," Declan says, scrolling through.

"Band symbols?"

"Jesus, cousin, do you live under a rock? Bands, yeah, like rock bands. This one here is Fall Out Boy, this one is Linkin Park, this one is Arctic Monkeys. What are you trying to solve?"

"Who is tagging Kennedy Pound's car."

"Kennedy Pound…the cute red head in my first period class?"

"Yeah, I was assuming you already met her."

"Seems nice enough. Someone's taggin' her car?"

"Looks like it."

"Hmm," Declan sounds, handing the phone back to Sherlock.

Now that Sherlock knows what the symbols are, he thinks about why someone is painting them on Kennedy's car. He realizes that he can't even really pinpoint the type of person who would do this, seeing as how 'bad' kids usually tag, but if Declan knows the band symbols and he's a 'good' kid, it could be anyone.

Sherlock thinks about it for the rest of the morning, and after the class before lunch, he heads to his locker. John follows, and he finds Declan there already.

"Lunch with Brady?" Sherlock asks John, just as he does every day.

"Of course," John says, then turns to Declan. "You're welcome to join, Declan. I mean, you may have found lunch buddies already, but—"

Declan stops him. "I'd love to John, thank you."

John pats Sherlock's arm, then heads down the hall with Declan.

"You're not coming, Sherlock?"

"Hmm? No, I go to the library during lunch."

"Come on, come with us," Declan tries. "I only know John, and I'm imposing on his friend group. And it's your birthday, you don't need to be alone!"

John just smiles.

Sherlock sighs. "Oh, alright."

John wraps an arm around Sherlock and they begin down the hall again.

John and Declan get their lunches and go to John's usual table. His friends are already there, so John introduces Declan to everyone.

"Guys, this is Sherlock's cousin Declan," John says as they sit. "Declan this is Brady, Jenna, Lyle, Sam, Joseph, and Lauren. And…" John pauses for Alex to join their table. He smiles as she approaches. "Alex."

Declan says hello to everyone, lingering his greeting with Alex. He sits across from Alex, and they begin to talk almost as soon as they sit. John mentally pats himself on the back.

Sherlock just silently sits and thinks about Kennedy's case while everyone else chats. They talk about what they did over their holiday and Sherlock wonders why someone is painting band symbols on Kennedy's car. Kennedy's nice, Sherlock's never seen her have problems with anyone. Then again, he remembers thinking the same thing about Jenna.

He glances at Jenna. She's so happy, holding Brady's arm close to her, as if he's protecting her from all the bad in the world. He looks at John and actually longs to hold John close, too.

He thinks about how unfair it is that everyone gets to be so open about _their_ sexualities. Jenna holding Brady close; Brady being awkward and nervous because a pretty girl is touching him. Sam holding Lyle's hand; Lyle kissing her cheek. Lauren playing with the hair on the back of Joseph's head; Joseph being so comfortable with the occurrence. Even Declan and Alex are getting along quite nicely.

Sherlock doesn't even think before he does it. He reaches over, grabs John's face, pulls him close, and kisses him. It starts hard, teeth pressing against each other through two sets of lips. John doesn't even close his eyes. Then Sherlock eases up, gives John room to kiss back, and John does.

Sherlock is surprised at how not surprised he is that John kissed back. John is his boyfriend, has been for half a year already, but that doesn't mean John's ever been out and proud at school. The most physical they've ever been around peers was when they were twelve and John arrived at school crying because of what his dad had done that morning. Sherlock held him for an hour until John calmed. And then the police came and Sherlock did it all over again.

Sherlock finally pulls away and John grins.

"You ok?" John asks.

Sherlock clears his throat. "Fine," he mutters. "You?"

"Perfect," John smiles widely.

"Soooo…" Brady mutters.

John and Sherlock finally look to the rest of the group, who were briefly stunned silent.

But they go on like nothing happened.

"How about we go ice skating again, hmm?" Jenna asks."All of us, Sherlock you too!"

Sherlock sits back in his seat and is going to ignore them, but John laces his fingers with Sherlock's and continues their conversations.

* * *

The school day ends and they all walk home. Declan tells them about the girls he met, all the numbers he's already received, and John and Sherlock just laugh.

"Tell my dad I'll be home in a bit," Sherlock tells Declan.

Declan nods. "Of course. See you boys later."

As soon as Declan is gone, John pulls Sherlock to the house.

"I am going to make dinner," John says, shedding his coat. "My mum went shopping yesterday, so I can make you almost anything you're in the mood for."

Sherlock opens the cabinets and looks through the food. "How about chicken and rice? That sounds good."

"Sure," John says, taking chicken out of the freezer.

After he's got the chicken cooking and the rice steaming, John makes brownies. Sherlock's eyes glisten as he stirs the batter, then dips his finger in for a taste when John isn't looking.

They eat dinner after a while, conversation never dwindling. John, as usual, listens to Sherlock go on and on about his experiments, then about the current case he's working on.

"I still can't figure out why someone is painting band symbols on Kennedy's car."

"Maybe you ought to ask someone who is an expert in this stuff?"

"What, another tagger?"

John nods. "Someone else is bound to have seen this."

Sherlock considers this, then continues eating his food.

Long after their dinner, and their brownies, they go up to John's bedroom. They lay in John's bed to relax, and they kiss slowly for long minutes.

"John…" Sherlock sighs. "I've been thinking…"

"About?" John asks.

"I want to try something."

"Hmm, like?"

Sherlock's fingers trail down John's back, down to his bum. "You know…"

John jumps back. "What?! Now?"

Sherlock smiles and rubs his nose against John's.

"I don't think so, love. Not today. Another time."

Sherlock bites John's lip. "Okay. Another time," he repeats.

John licks Sherlock's neck. "How about just…" he bites Sherlock's neck and grabs the bulge in his jeans.

Sherlock groans and arches into John's touch.

John rubs Sherlock through his jeans for minutes, Sherlock practically whining about the lack of what he wants. His hips thrust into John's touch and he kisses John as hard as he can.

He grunts, as he had on John's sofa, and gets up on his knees. He unzips his jeans and begins to unbutton his shirt.

John follows him up and pulls his shirt off over his head. Sherlock presses his body as close to John's as possible and thrusts against John. John pushes Sherlock's jeans down his hips and grabs his arse.

"I'm going to…I'm going to come already…" Sherlock whispers, still thrusting against John.

John reaches around Sherlock and grabs his cock, giving Sherlock a few clumsy strokes before Sherlock comes against him. John groans as loud as Sherlock does, then Sherlock repays John by reaching into his jeans and stroking his cock.

"Oh god, Sherlock…" John sighs into Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock kisses John roughly, moans into John's mouth, then John comes with a strangled cry.

John falls back against his pillows and Sherlock climbs on top of him. He kisses John's cheek and lips, whispering how much he loves John between kisses.

"You're so good, love," John says, running his hands up and down Sherlock's bare back.

They kiss for many minutes, easing down from their high, then clean up. Sherlock stays undressed, stretching out fully naked on John's bed.

"Do you want your present now?" John asks, slipping a clean pair of pants on.

Sherlock eagerly nods.

John laughs and gets out of the bed, then goes to his closet and gets the present.

He brings it back to the bed and hands it to Sherlock, who sits up to open it.

Sherlock gasps when he sees the bright purple headphones inside. "Now John, this is too expensive, I can't—"

"You can," John tells him. "You said that love is taking care of someone, I am keeping you from the harm of your father if you continue to play your records too loud."

Sherlock smiles widely and attacks John in a hug. "Thank you, I love them."

"Good," John says. "Happy Birthday, babe."

"Thank you, John. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Sherlock goes home before nine o'clock, just as Clement said to. He shows Clement his new headphones and Clement practically jumps for joy.

Sherlock goes to bed almost as soon as he goes home, very happy with the day he had.


	22. Chapter 22: Kennedy

**_A/N: This chapter is long and random. But I hope you guys enjoy, please review! _**

* * *

Sherlock thinks about who he could go to for help with the vandalism issue all morning. He's distracted at breakfast, even though Declan tries to talk to him; he's distracted walking to school, even though John is there.

Finally, in third period, Declan finds a solution.

"Hey, everyone?" Declan announces to the class. Their teacher hasn't arrived yet, so he's not really interrupting any. "Hello, nice to meet you, sorry. Does anyone in this room know anything about tagging? Like vandalism?"

Everyone looks around at the others, muttering things like, "I don't, do you?" Except one kid in the back of the class. She just meets Declan's gaze and doesn't change her facial expression.

"There you go," Declan says, smiling at the girl.

Sherlock goes towards the back of the room, where she's sitting, and sits next to her. He knows her, her name is Olive Degas, and he's known her since primary school. He politely smiles at her as he takes his books out.

Towards the end of class, when their teacher is finished teaching, Olive turns to Sherlock.

"What do you want, Holmes?"

Sherlock turns to her and takes his phone out. "I need some help. Recognize these?"

Olive takes his phone and scrolls through the pictures. "Band symbols."

"Know anyone who paints band symbols elsewhere?"

Olive shakes her head. "None that I've ever seen. I've never really seen paint like that anywhere else either, so you're not looking for anyone who does this often."

"What else do you think you can tell me?"

"Uhm…" Olive scrolls through the pictures again. "Probably a girl."

"How can you tell?"

"Pale purple paint. Boys use pink, it's punk, ya know? Rarely ever purple. And a boy would probably use pink to throw you off, ya know? Make you think it's a girl. Purple's got to be this girl's favorite color."

"Purple's my favorite color," Sherlock argues. "I'm a boy."

"You're a gay boy," Olive points out.

Sherlock shrugs. "What else?"

Olive bites her fingernail in thought. "Uhm…an amateur wouldn't know how to get it off their fingers. They'd probably have purple prints."

Sherlock takes that in. "That's somewhat useful, actually. Anything else?"

Olive shakes her head. "No, not really. Just that it's probably a girl and she'll have purple fingertips."

Sherlock nods and takes his phone back from Olive. "Thanks."

"No problem, Holmes."

* * *

Sherlock talks to Kennedy in person before lunch.

"Any girls you have problems with?" he asks. "Anyone who you think would do this?"

Kennedy bites her lip. "Not really…"

"Well, if you notice anyone being mean or anything to you, let me know and I'll look into them. And let me know if you happen to notice anyone with purple prints."

Kennedy nods.

"And let me know if this happens again before I figure it out."

Kennedy nods again.

They're at Sherlock's locker, so right then Declan walks up.

"Oh, hi Kennedy," he greets.

Kennedy smiles widely, showing all of her perfect, straight teeth. "Hi Declan!"

Declan smiles and gets into his locker.

"Anyway," Sherlock tries to get her attention. "Remember to let me know if anything weird goes on, ok?"

Kennedy nods. "Sure, Sherlock, thanks. Declan, what are you doing for lunch?"

Declan turns back to her and Sherlock. "Oh, uh, I think I'm dining with my cousin."

Sherlock looks at him. He's about to say that he was just going to go to the library, but Declan gives him a quick smile that Sherlock can tell says, '_please just go eat with me'_.

"Bummer," Kennedy says. "Call me sometime. We can hang out outside of school."

"Sure, of course," he says.

Kennedy says goodbye to him and Sherlock, then leaves.

"Didn't want to eat with Kennedy?" Sherlock questions as soon as she's gone. "Meeting Alex again?"

Declan shrugs. "They're both nice, but…"

Sherlock eyes him. "But what?"

"I don't know, I just…"

"You _are_ gay, aren't you?"

Declan laughs. "No! It's just that I…I kind of like someone else already."

"Oh? Who? Brady?"

Declan laughs again. "No! I can't stop thinking about your friend I met yesterday. The cute little mouse girl."

"Ellery?!"

Declan nods and blushes.

"You would snap her like a twig!"

Declan laughs. "She's so cute! Her little glasses! Her little inhaler!"

Sherlock laughs at him. "Just take it easy on her, if you do talk to her."

"I will. If I do."

Sherlock closes his locker and pats his back, then they begin walking to the cafeteria.

* * *

Kennedy calls Sherlock as they're walking home from school.

"Hello?" Sherlock quickly answers. "Kennedy?"

"Sherlock, this fucker tagged my car again!"

Sherlock is confused. He saw Kennedy at school not ten minutes ago, and she was running back into the building from her car.

"I just got home and my car is tagged," she explains. "I was in my dad's car today because he needed to take mine to the shop. And I just got home and here it is!"

"Oh…" Sherlock mutters. "Alright, uhm…I have an idea. Don't touch your car and text me your address, I'll be right over."

Kennedy agrees and hangs up, then the three boys walk to her house. It's only a few blocks away so they're there in less than ten minutes.

They get to Kennedy's house and Sherlock instructs the boys to look for fingerprints. Kennedy grabs Declan before he can look, hugging him tight and laying her head against his shoulder. Declan lets her hug him and comfortingly hugs her back.

Sherlock and John search the car up and down, carefully examining every inch of paint for a print, and when Sherlock is about to give up, John calls him over.

"Got one, Sherlock."

"I just washed it yesterday," Kennedy explains. "I haven't driven it since then, and my dad has only touched the door handle. That's got to be someone else's."

"You said it was at a shop?"

Kennedy nods.

Sherlock takes out a pencil from his backpack and begins crushing up the lead. "This print is close enough to a paint streak that it's probably our culprit."

Sherlock takes the print and puts it safely in his backpack.

"What are you going to do with it?" John asks.

"I'm giving it to Lestrade."

"And if there isn't a match?"

"Then I'll think of something else," Sherlock says. He goes to Kennedy and she unwinds herself from Declan. "Tomorrow at school, pay really close attention. We all will. Olive said that an amateur like this wouldn't know how to clean the paint off of their fingers. Especially if a print this big was left. So we need to look out for purple prints, ok?"

Everyone nods.

They leave Kennedy then and Sherlock calls Lestrade to ask him to run the print. Lestrade tells him he'll gladly help, but not to be upset if there isn't anything.

Lestrade meets them at the Holmes residence to get the print.

"Why didn't you just call me at the start?" Lestrade asks when he asks Sherlock to walk him out. "Vandalism is a real crime."

"I could handle it," Sherlock says. "I just need this done."

Lestrade nods. "I can have this in a few days. You really need to have Kennedy file a report, though. Charges can be made, Sherlock."

"I will when we figure this out. I can solve it quicker than you lot can even see the report."

"Alright, alright," Lestrade concedes. "So…"

Sherlock looks at him. "So?"

"Have you, uhm…" Lestrade nervously looks at his shoes.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "Talked to my brother?"

Lestrade nods.

Sherlock laughs. "Duh. He's my brother. He called me yesterday."

"Oh yeah," Lestrade says. "Happy late birthday."

"Thanks."

"So…has Mycroft said anything…about…"

"About you?"

Lestrade bites his lip and nods.

Sherlock laughs at him. "He asked the same thing. If I've talked to you."

"That's it?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Next time I talk to him I'm going to tell him you ran off to Denmark with a librarian and have eight kids now."

Lestrade laughs. "Don't you dare, he may actually think I ran off with someone."

"And you're not going to?"

Lestrade shakes his head. "I'll wait this one out, I think."

Sherlock wants to smile, but he doesn't. "How can we trust you?"

Lestrade looks at him. "You just can."

Sherlock searches Lestrade's face for any sign of a lie or uncertainty, but he finds none. "Just don't fuck up, or I'll tell my brother."

"I know, I know," Lestrade sighs. "I'll call you when the search is done."

Sherlock nods.

"See you, Sherlock."

Suddenly, Sherlock grins. "Lestrade and Mycroft sittin' in a tree," he chants. "S-E-X-T-I-N-G!"

Lestrade kicks at him but Sherlock laughs and jumps away. "What the hell do you know about sexting?!" Lestrade cries.

"I'm seventeen now and much more knowledgeable than I was two days ago when I was sixteen."

Lestrade rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Goodbye, Sherlock."

Sherlock waves once, then goes back to the house.

When he gets back to the sitting room, John and Declan are trying to pretend like they weren't spying.

Sherlock hangs his coat and heads up the stairs. John says goodbye to Declan and follows.

They lay on Sherlock's bed, staring at the ceiling. Sherlock steals John's phone to listen to music using his new headphones, and John steals Sherlock's iPad to play Temple Run.

After long minutes of silence, Sherlock lifts one speaker of his headphones off his head and mutters, "It's really bugging me that I have no leads on Kennedy's case."

"I don't blame you," John says. "It's not that easy, honestly. Dane's was so much easier."

"Well, yeah. But this is an actual crime. Lestrade said I should have called him."

John shrugs. "Just like Lily's, get him involved when it's all figured out."

"Exactly," Sherlock agrees. "But why would somebody be painting band symbols on Kennedy's car? I don't understand."

"I guess we'll find out when we figure out who's doing it. We figure it out tomorrow, I'm sure. We'll catch her purple handed."

Sherlock chuckles. "I guess."

John looks over at him and smiles. "And if we find her tomorrow, I've got another case for you all lined up."

Sherlock smiles widely. "Oh John, you treat me so well."

"I always have," John says, leaning over and kissing Sherlock's cheek.

* * *

The next morning, the boys all get up early to get to school earlier than usual. Sherlock plans to wait at the door to watch every student file in and out to catch the culprit.

So he does. John and Declan go inside because they get too cold very quickly, but Sherlock sits on the front step to watch everyone come in.

A lot of girls are wearing mittens, which causes a problem for his theory of checking finger prints.

He loses track of time and really stops paying attention to anything but girl's fingertips when someone sits down next to him.

"Any luck?"

It's Olive. Sherlock shakes his head.

Olive begins to watch everyone entering. They're silent, both concentrating on checking fingertips.

They have no luck, figuring perhaps the girl was wearing mittens, so they go into the building for class.

Sherlock, John, Declan, and even Olive search all day for purple fingertips. They're unlucky, and they don't see Kennedy again until they're leaving the building.

They hear Kennedy before they see her. From down the hall and around the corner, they hear Kennedy yell, "You little fucker, _you _tagged my car!"

The boys all look at each other, concerned, then take off down the hall. They get to Kennedy as soon as Kennedy is ready to punch the girl, so Declan grabs Kennedy and pulls her away. Kennedy wraps her arms around his neck and begins to cry.

Sherlock grabs the girl's hand before she can run away. She turns back to the group so they see her face for the first time.

"Sabrina?!" John cries. "Why did you do this?"

Sherlock doesn't really know the girl, but by John's shock he assumes she's a nice person.

"You know why, Kennedy! You know what you did!"

"What?!" Kennedy shouts back. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Jeff is _my _boyfriend, Kennedy! And you made him-"

Kennedy pulls herself away from Declan to step towards Sabrina. Sherlock tightens his grip on her hand so she doesn't run away.

"Your lovely fucking boyfriend _touched _me, Sabrina! And I tried to tell you, because I know for sure I wouldn't want to date a guy who gets drunk at parties and inappropriately grabs other girls. And for that you deface my property?! You can do what you want with your life, but stay away from mine!"

Kennedy turns around and storms away, towards the front doors of the school.

"I'm going to make sure she's ok, I'll meet you guys at home," Declan says, then takes off after Kennedy.

Sabrina finally yanks her hand away from Sherlock, then walks the opposite direction while crying.

"Well," Sherlock mutters. "Solved it."

John pats his back and walks him to the door.

Sherlock calls Lestrade as they're walking home.

"I solved it," he says instead of a greeting. "More or less."

"Solved what?"

"The vandalism case I had."

"Oh," Lestrade says. "Right. So...you don't need that fingerprint ran?"

"Right."

"Alright. Tell your friend to come in to file a report."

"I'll give her your number."

"Sherlock," Lestrade says. "I don't do vandalism."

"Yes, you do," is all Sherlock says.

Lestrade sighs. "Fine."

Sherlock grins and hangs up, then grabs John's hand.

John looks at him. "Happy?"

Sherlock nods. "I get a new case."

John laughs. "Tomorrow after school."

"What?!" Sherlock cries. "Tomorrow?! After school?!"

"Your dad said not to give them to you _at _school anymore. He says you get too distracted."

"When you give them to me at school, I don't get distracted from school. I get distracted from the case!"

"Exactly!"

Sherlock pouts.

John laughs. "And this evening I want to actually spend time with you."

Sherlock sighs. "Alright."

After John makes Sherlock play Battleship, they have dinner with Clement. Declan finally arrives back when everyone is at the dinner table, and Sherlock can tell by the slight red tinge to his lips and the wideness of his pupils that he and Kennedy kissed (a lot), if not more. Declan just slides into a seat and grins the entire evening.

John leaves a while after dinner, and before bed, Sherlock goes to Declan's room.

"So..." he starts, leaning against the open door.

"So?" Declan wonders, turning away from his laptop to Sherlock.

"You and Kennedy..."

Declan chuckles. "What about us?"

"Are you two going to go out now?"

Declan makes a face and shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because..." Sherlock is confused. Declan has a face as if Sherlock is being ridiculous. "Because you kissed."

Declan looks back at his laptop. "Don't be such a square, Sherlock. You don't have to go out with someone to kiss them. It was a one time thing, I don't know if it'll happen again. It didn't really mean anything."

Sherlock scowls. "Oh."

Declan looks back at him. "Don't worry about it, alright?"

Sherlock nods. "Alright..."

"How's John?" Declan quickly asks, as if wanting to take Sherlock's mind off of what he just said.

"Fine," Sherlock says. "He had to go home."

"How long have you two been official?"

"Almost seven months," Sherlock says.

"Well, that's good for you," Declan tells him.

Sherlock nods. "I'm going to bed."

"See ya."

Sherlock silently leaves, still confused by Declan's words. He couldn't imagine kissing anyone else, or doing anything more, if he didn't have feelings for the person. He didn't think about doing anything at all with John until after he told John that he loves him. And he hopes John feels the same way.

He begins to panic a little bit. _What if John feels the same way Declan does? _he wonders. _What if John can just be intimate with me if he doesn't love me? _

He calls John immediately, but John doesn't answer. He begins to panic more.

It's only eight o'clock, so he rushes downstairs to Clement.

"Dad," he starts. "I forgot I asked John to hold an assignment for me. Can I run over to get it?"

Clement nods. "Sure, son. Hurry back, ok?"

Sherlock practically runs out of the house and down the street.

He sees John in the window, sitting at his computer. So instead of going through the front door, Sherlock climbs up the tree and onto the roof. He crawls over to John's window, then knocks.

John nearly falls out of his chair he's so shocked. Then, he begins to laugh and opens the window.

"Sherlock? What the hell?"

Sherlock ignores him. "Do you love me, John?"

"What?!" John laughs again. "Of course I-"

John's face drops to a frown, just as Sherlock assumes his face looks.

"Oh god, Sherlock," John holds a hand out to help Sherlock into his bedroom. "What happened, love?"

Sherlock slightly eases at the name. "Nothing, I...I just wanted to make sure."

Once Sherlock is in, John pulls him into a tight hug. "Of course I love you, babe. I've always loved you. Don't ever think that I don't, ok?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath and nods.

John hugs him tighter. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, John."

John takes hold of Sherlock's face and kisses him lightly.

"Do you feel better?" John whispers.

Sherlock nods, feeling much, much better.

"Good," John whispers against his lips, leaning in for another kiss.

The second kiss is much more heated. John's tongue trails over Sherlock's lips and Sherlock lets John in.

Minutes later, John reaches for Sherlock's belt and Sherlock grabs his hands.

"I have to go," Sherlock says, almost whining.

"Just twenty more minutes?"

Sherlock chuckles. "I told my dad I'd be right back."

John groans. "Please?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I have to go."

John groans again when Sherlock lets him go and backs towards the window.

"Later," Sherlock says. "When we can take our time."

John nods. "Alright. This weekend?"

Sherlock nods and opens the window. He climbs out onto the roof and pokes his head back into John's bedroom.

John grabs his curls and kisses him roughly. Their faces are the same height, for once, so it's easy for John to plunder his mouth.

Sherlock works his lips away first. "I have to go."

John reluctantly lets go of his hair. "Ok. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you," Sherlock says, exiting the window once more.

"I do love you, Sherlock. So much."

"I love you too," Sherlock says, then disappears down the roof.

John leans out the window to watch Sherlock crawl away. "What a view," he teases.

Sherlock laughs and wiggles his hips.

When Sherlock gets home, he quickly takes a shower and gets ready for bed. When he goes downstairs to get some water, Declan meets him down there.

"Hey," Declan says. "Sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Oh, I-"

"What I said about not liking someone, or whatever. I didn't mean you and John, obviously. John loves you."

Sherlock nods.

"Everyone's different though, right? I'm different. I don't much believe in finding love myself. But I believe in the love I see in you and John, and my mum and dad. Understand?"

Sherlock nods.

Declan pats his shoulder. "I'm going to bed. Sorry I freaked you out."

"It's ok," Sherlock says.

Sherlock goes to bed around his usual time. He texts John first, telling John that he loves him very much.


	23. Chapter 23: Anatomy

**_A/N: hello and thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy. Please review, they're always appreciated._**

**_warning this chapter for sex. Which is alright, right?_**

**_Edit: the story started over in the middle When I uploaded it earlier. It's edited and fixed. Thanks and sorry!_**

* * *

The rest of the week passes slowly. Clement convinces Sherlock to not take any more cases until Sherlock's school work is caught up with, telling Sherlock that it doesn't do any good to be behind within the first five days back. Sherlock reluctantly accepts, so John keeps the case away from Sherlock.

On Saturday, the boys get together to write their research papers. They set up on John's bedroom floor on their stomachs facing each other with their laptops and books to try to write.

John flies by his. It's an anatomy research paper, and John has always expressed how much he likes this type of science. Unfortunately, the bones and joints mean almost nothing to Sherlock, for he is all about biology and chemistry. Safely popping a shoulder back into place? John's area. Using two substances to create an explosion? Sherlock's.

Sherlock gives up early as John is typing away on his laptop. Sherlock sighs loudly and turns onto his back, grabbing the Rubik's Cube Dane and Duke gave him out of his backpack.

"Finished?" John asks.

"Oh, yeah," Sherlock mutters.

John flips Sherlock's laptop towards him and finds the Word document empty. Google isn't even open.

"Finished, alright."

"I don't understand why I need to write this paper. I'm not going into a field of study that requires much anatomy, if I go into any field of study."

"What if you've got a case one day that requires you to know anatomy, huh? What if solving a case depends on finding a person's clavicle?"

"I highly doubt any killers in the future are going to steal a hip bone, John."

John stares at him in disbelief. "A clavicle is the collar bone, genius. A pelvis is the hip bone."

Sherlock waves a hand, dismissing the correction.

"This is the solar system all over again, isn't it?"

Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes. "I don't need to know where Mars is and I certainly don't need to know what a clavicle is."

"It'll be really useful one day—"

"You're just going to get just as frustrated as you were when you were trying to teach me about how the Sun spins—"

"Maybe if you'd just listen to me, you'd know that the planets—"

"I still have a scar on my knee from when you pushed me off my bike, you know?"

"I wouldn't have pushed you off your bike if you hadn't shouted at me that my instructions were completely useless."

"You should have just let it go."

"You shouldn't have called me stupid."

Sherlock tilts his head up to look at John. John is staring back down at him like, '_I_ _will win this argument_.'

"Well," Sherlock continues. "You're not stupid anymore."

"Thank you."

Sherlock directs his attention back at the Rubik's Cube and fiddles with it.

They're silent for long minutes after. John types away at his computer, feeling prideful that his paper is coming along quite nicely, and Sherlock pretends that he doesn't need to do his paper. He plays with the stupid toy he has and eventually gets frustrated with it.

He replaces the toy with his phone and checks his email. None new, not that he expected anything. He hoped that maybe some kids would try to track down his personal email, seeing as how he hasn't responded to many work emails, but none have. He frowns and sends a text instead.

Well, he sends five texts. One to every person he talks to regularly enough that receiving a text wouldn't be weird. One goes to Mycroft, one to John, one to Declan, one to Duke (who he has had a few text conversations with), and one to his cousin Nora.

"Bored." is all they say.

He frowns when nobody replies instantly. He hears John's phone vibrate in his pocket, but he can also hear that John doesn't bother to check it.

He scowls, annoyed that John ignored his text. He gets up off of his back and crawls over to John, then climbs on top of John and sprawls himself across John's back.

John chuckles. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock rests his forehead on John's shoulder. "Bored."

John reaches up and ruffles Sherlock's hair. "Mmm," he mutters. "Your hair smells good."

Sherlock lifts his head and digs his nose into John's hair. "You smell good, too."

John laughs when Sherlock continues to sniff his head, down to his neck. "Tickles, love."

Sherlock just hums a response, then licks the nape of John's neck.

John huffs out a breath and lets his head fall forward. "Feels good," he mutters.

Sherlock doesn't respond, instead spreading his wet kisses and licks all over the parts of John's neck that he can reach. John lifts his head to allow Sherlock more room when Sherlock gets to his pulse point.

John groans then.

"I don't know why we're wasting time clothed when nobody's here," Sherlock whispers hot against John's ear. He traces the rim of Sherlock's ear with his tongue. "There's so much more of you I could be…tasting…"

"I don't know if Harry's coming to town," John whispers.

"Mycroft has been in the house while we were having sex, I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind."

John can't help but laugh. "Still a bit awkward."

Sherlock shrugs. He kisses John's neck again, then slowly begins to kiss down John's back.

Even through his t-shirt, John can feel Sherlock's hot breath. As Sherlock nears the small of his back, John lifts his stomach off the ground so Sherlock can pulls his shirt up, revealing his skin. John nearly jumps when he feels a kiss against the line of his jeans. Then Sherlock disappears a moment, and John feels Sherlock bite his bum.

John laughs. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock runs his hands up John's sides, lifting John's shirt as he goes. He straddles John's hips once again, leaning forward and breathing in John's ear.

Sherlock thrusts his hips once, pressing his erection against John and sighing in John's ear. "John…"

"Oh, god…" John mutters.

Sherlock's hands wrap around his chest; his fingers find John's nipples. "John, I want to try something…" he whispers, still thrusting his hips against John.

John groans, breathless at the feeling and the thought of Sherlock rutting against him. "Ok…" is all John can say.

Sherlock sits up on John's hips and trails his hands down John's body again. His hands stop at John's arse and he can't help squeezing the flesh under John's jeans and pumping his hips again, imagining thrusting in and out of John.

And then he's gone.

"Up," he mutters.

Before John can even get his head on and get off the floor, Sherlock's got his shirt off and is working on his jeans. John finally gets up and Sherlock grabs his shirt to rip it off for him.

Finally, they're both undressed, and Sherlock is gently pushing John to the bed. John lays down, on his back, and Sherlock leans over to kiss him.

"Be right back," Sherlock whispers against John's lips.

Confused, John props himself up on his elbows to watch Sherlock go to his bathroom.

He returns seconds later with a tube of lubricant.

"Where the hell did you get that?" John questions.

"Under your sink," Sherlock answers. "I hid it there a few days ago."

John chuckles and Sherlock gets onto the bed. He climbs over John, pausing to kiss John passionately while on top of John. John's hips involuntarily thrust up, his cock rubbing against Sherlock's.

"Hurry…" John begs, and Sherlock gets off of him to lay at his side. "How…"

Sherlock bites his lip in thought, gazing at John's body. He wants to do it in every way, in every position he's read about: John on his back with his legs over Sherlock's shoulders; John on his front with his legs spread, slightly bent at the knee and Sherlock between his legs; on their sides so Sherlock is laying behind John—

"Like this," Sherlock says. He slips his hand between John's thighs and pushes them apart. He grins when John complies.

"Oh…" John mutters.

Sherlock looks up at his face, seeing a slight rosy tinge to his cheeks. He smiles again and leans up to kiss John gently. "I'll be careful," he whispers, kissing John's neck and chest.

"I showered before you got here," John says as Sherlock pulls at his thigh again.

"I know, I can tell," Sherlock says, licking John's nipple.

John sighs and Sherlock grins.

Sherlock finally gets up to move between John's spread legs. He rests down again, his left arm over John's right leg. John's other leg is moved out of the way to allow room for Sherlock's shoulder and other arm.

"Alright?" Sherlock wonders.

"Fine," John says.

Sherlock presses a kiss to the inside of John's left thigh. "I love you."

"I love you too," John says.

Sherlock props himself up to pour some lube on his fingers. He gets a healthy amount, making sure it's enough, and immediately rubs it against John's hole.

John hisses.

Sherlock looks up at his face. "Hurt?"

John shakes his head. "Cold."

Sherlock nods in understanding, then continues to gently rub it against John. It warms thanks to John's skin, and John relaxes.

"There you go…" Sherlock whispers, lightly pressing his finger into the tiny hole.

"Oh…." John sounds, as if shocked.

Sherlock counts it as a good 'oh', because John doesn't stop him when he presses in more.

"Alright?" Sherlock asks, now slowly pulling his finger out to push it back in.

"Fine. Doesn't hurt as much as I thought," John admits. A bit breathless, he continues, "I thought it was going to be awful, honestly, but—"

Sherlock licks up John's cock and John lets out a deep groan. Sherlock pushes his finger back into John, all the way to the hilt. John reaches for Sherlock's shoulder and squeezes.

"Good?" Sherlock asks.

John just nods.

Sherlock grins and continues. He pumps his finger gently in and out of John, making John gasp with each reentry. He licks at John's cock some more, then sucks one of John's balls into his mouth.

"Oh Christ, Sherlock," John grans. "I'm going to come already."

"Not yet," Sherlock says, taking his tongue off of John and focusing on his finger. "One more finger, can you do that?"

John nods. "Yeah…please, Sherlock…"

Sherlock bites his lip hard as he joins his middle finger with the first. John groans loudly, his fingernails digging into Sherlock's skin. Sherlock's own erection throbs so hard that it hurts.

"I want to fuck you, John…" Sherlock says.

"I want you to, Sherlock…" John begs. "_Please_..."

Sherlock bites his lip harder, the urge to pull his fingers out and shove his cock in growing. He pushes it away, reasoning with himself that he's not ready.

"Oh, please, Sherlock…" John begs again. "Sherlock…"

Sherlock licks his lips and takes the head of John's cock in his mouth, at the same time swirling his fingers around in search of the little cluster of nerves inside John. He sucks John as well as he can while concentrating on John's prostate.

Of course there isn't an extensive search online for this particular topic, meaning there isn't a video of where exactly to find it. And Sherlock's lack of anatomy leaves him a bit—

John groans loudly and arches off the bed.

Sherlock wants to grin, finding John's prostate, but John continues to moan and grabs Sherlock's hair. Sherlock doesn't mind, he's quickly finding that he quite likes his hair being pulled, but he doesn't have time to think about it before John mutters, "Oh god, _Sherlock_…I'm—" and he feels John's come flood the back of his throat.

Sherlock stills as John practically holds his head down, forcing his cock as deep into Sherlock's mouth as Sherlock can take it, but Sherlock actually likes it. When John's body finally sags and John's breathing begins to slow, Sherlock gently pulls his fingers out and lets John's cock go.

"Sherlock," John moans again, running his hand through Sherlock's hair and pulling him by the base of his skull. Sherlock follows John's instruction and climbs up John's body until his mouth can reach John's and John can reach his cock.

The first touch makes Sherlock's toes curl, which is exactly what he needs. John strokes him firmly and grabs his plump behind while Sherlock kisses him roughly. Sherlock pushes harder into John's hand and in short minutes comes on John's stomach.

Sherlock presses his forehead against John's as their breathing returns to normal.

"Fuck, baby…" John sighs. "You're so good, I love you so much."

"I love you, John," Sherlock replies.

They breathe against each other for minutes before John complains about the mess on his stomach. He gets up and goes to the shower again. Sherlock follows to clean himself up.

"It didn't hurt?" Sherlock calls over the loud spray.

"No," John says. "I thought it would, but it doesn't."

"Good," Sherlock mutters. He leaves the bathroom when he feels clean once again, then gets his pants on and waits for John.

John returns minutes later and grins at Sherlock. "I feel amazing," he says, falling face first onto his bed.

Sherlock snuggles up to his side and kisses his cheek. "Let's take a nap," he says. "I didn't sleep much last night."

John shakes his head, but his eyes close in protest. "We need to do our research papers."

"Can I write mine about your arse?" Sherlock asks.

John snorts out a laugh. "What?! No!"

"Then I still don't care about anatomy," Sherlock honestly says.

John continues to laugh. "Alright. Half an hour, k? Then we need to get to work."

"Alright," Sherlock says, kissing John again.

They wake an hour later, because neither of them bothered to set an alarm. They feel refreshed, and John feels ready to work.

After making lunch, they return to John's bedroom and resume their same positions from earlier.

Sherlock receives text messages back hours after he sent them. His phone vibrates and he eagerly fishes it out of his pocket, excited for distraction.

**From Declan Holmes** Where are you?

**To Declan Holmes** John's. Working on our anatomy research papers.

**From Declan Holmes** I'm about to start. Can I join?

Sherlock looks up at John, who is viciously typing away at his laptop.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Can Declan come over?"

John looks up over his laptop. "Huh?"

Sherlock shrugs. "He asked if he could join."

"Oh, uh, sure. I don't mind if you don't."

Sherlock nods and tells Declan that he can join.

Declan arrives ten minutes later, and by then Sherlock is distracted from his paper because Duke texts him back. He starts talking to Duke about what he's doing and Duke says he's doing the same, trying to avoid actually doing it. Sherlock finds that he and Duke may have more in common than he previously thought.

John and Declan finish their papers before dinner, so the three head back to the Holmes residence for their meal. They talk to Clement about their papers, and Sherlock gets scolded for not doing his. Since the reports are due on Friday, Clement tells Sherlock he can't do anything to do with John or a case until he does it, and if it's not finished come time to turn it in, Sherlock's grounded for two more weeks. Sherlock just frowns and picks at his food, and John holds his hand under the table.

John offers a few words of encouragement as he leaves, but Sherlock just pouts.

"You can finish it all by tomorrow and I'll give you a new case," John tries.

Sherlock shrugs.

"Your dad will gladly help you. I'll Skype with you, only to help. And Declan seems to grasp it pretty well. You can do it, love."

Sherlock shrugs again.

John sighs. He places a hand on Sherlock's cheek and lifts Sherlock's face to him. "It'll be ok, Sherlock. You can do it. Put that brilliant mind to work, yeah?"

Sherlock nods. "Ok, John."

"You can get a new case when you're finished. Two, even. Ok?"

Sherlock nods.

"I had a really, really good day with you, love. Please don't be upset and ruin it."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. You can do it, alright? Just don't get grounded. I can't stand the thought of waiting three weeks to feel your fingers again."

Sherlock blushes and cracks a smile.

"Maybe you can feel mine next time."

Sherlock smiles wider.

"Like that, love?" John asks, rubbing his nose against Sherlock's.

"I do," Sherlock says, kissing John.

John pulls away first. "I've got to go, love. I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok?"

Sherlock nods. "Ok."

John kisses him one more time, then lets him go. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

John blows a kiss as he starts down the sidewalk, and Sherlock returns inside


	24. Chapter 24: Vince

By Monday, Sherlock is still report-less and Clement isn't happy. Sherlock can't go over to John's house for the rest of the week, and he doesn't get any cases. He pouts the entire way to school, and pouts even more when he ignores John so John talks to Declan.

They get to school and to their lockers, John still with them. There's a flier hanging on almost every other locker, Declan's being one.

"What's this?" Declan wonders, picking the paper off.

"Winter Formal?" John observes, reading over Declan's shoulder.

"Oh? What's that?"

Sherlock chimes in. "A pointless social gathering where the boys pretend to be too cool to socialize and the girls go crazy and attempt to be one with each other when boys won't while music plays."

Declan looks confused.

"It's a dance," John clarifies. "Pre-prom dance, really."

Declan nods. "You guys gonna go?"

Sherlock snorts.

"Guess not," John says.

Sherlock looks at him. "What, did you want to?"

John shrugs. "I'd like the option."

"Then go."

John's eyes brighten. "You want to?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "With someone else, I meant."

John looks disappointed.

Declan decides to distract them. "Say, you know who I'll ask?"

"Ellery?" Sherlock questions.

Declan grins widely.

"You like _Ellery_?" John questions.

Declan shrugs. "Yeah, why?"

"Isn't she a bit..." John taps his chin. "Uhm...weird?"

Declan scowls.

"Sorry, I just...I don't know. She doesn't talk to anyone."

"Neither does Sherlock," Declan argues.

"Yeah, and he's weird."

Sherlock scowls at John.

"Well," Declan says, closing his locker. "Sherlock managed to get you, didn't he? I'm sure Ellery is very kind. And she's adorable and I may love her."

John begins to laugh. "Alright, man. Good luck."

"Thanks. She's in my last period class, so I'm going to talk to her this afternoon."

"Like I said," John tells him. "Good luck."

The entire school day goes by without anyone else mentioning Winter Formal. John doesn't ask Sherlock about it, and not even the couples at lunch talk about it. Nonetheless, John can't help but feel disappointed that he'll miss out on a fun evening with friends because his boyfriend is stubborn.

When school ends, Sherlock tells John that Clement is making him stay after school to work on his research paper. John says that's good, then escorts Sherlock to the library so he can work on a different assignment.

Sherlock sets up at the last table in the library. Not the same hidden table as where he met Perry, because John says he wants to keep an eye on Sherlock.

John sits with his friends at a different table, Declan included.

"So?" John questions as they get settled.

"So?" Declan asks back.

"Did you talk to..." John eyes a table away, where Ellery is sitting alone. "You know?"

Declan looks over to Ellery and shakes his head. "Kennedy wouldn't leave me alone all last period."

"Now's your chance."

Declan bites his lip, then closes his books and stands. He takes a deep breath, then goes over to Ellery's table.

John can still hear Declan, so he eavesdrops.

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, grabbing the chair across from Ellery.

She slowly looks up at him and instantly panics. Declan can tell, because he takes his hand off the chair.

She clears her throat and sits up straight. "G-go ahead..."

Declan smiles and sits down.

John smiles, happy for Declan. His eyes wander back to his boyfriend and he rolls his eyes when he sees Sherlock playing with the Rubik's Cube. He excuses himself from his table and marches over to Sherlock's.

John yanks the toy out of Sherlock's hands without warning.

"Hey!" Sherlock cries.

"Do your paper!"

Sherlock scowls.

"I am not going to last without you for three weeks, so please focus and write your paper."

Sherlock continues to glare at John as he picks up his anatomy book and opens it to a random page.

John nods curtly, then returns to his seat.

Minutes later, the calm atmosphere of the library is interrupted by the entrance of Vince, Perry, and two of their other friends. They sit at their own table, and each pull out their books to work. They're still being loud the entire time, and everyone glares at them.

Sherlock's table is actually out of the way of everyone else's. To pass Sherlock's would take you far out of route of where you need to go, no matter what section of the library you need.

So when Perry gets up and walks past Sherlock's table, it's odd.

"Freak," he mutters, loud enough for John to hear. Sherlock's anatomy book is sticking off the table far enough for Perry to push it to make it drop to the floor.

John moves to stand, but Sherlock waves him away. Perry snickers as he leaves Sherlock to pick up his book.

It's quiet for more minutes. Perry returns to his seat without bothering Sherlock again.

After a while, John needs a new book, so he gets up to retrieve it. He purposefully walks past Sherlock too, except he pinches Sherlock's underarm. Sherlock squirms and yelps in shock, but covers it up with a cough. John laughs and continues through.

Sherlock turns around to watch John walk away, but John disappears from Sherlock's vision. He turns back to his books on time to see Vince get out of his chair.

He tenses as Vince makes his way in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock just stares at his book, hoping Vince will pass, but Vince pauses right next to him. Sherlock slowly blinks his gaze upward.

"I'm not happy that you got me suspended, Freak," he says.

"Oh, I..." Sherlock doesn't know what to say. He surely doesn't want to apologize, so he just stops talking.

Vince does the same as Perry did this time, shoving Sherlock's books to the ground. Sherlock just sighs and bends to pick it up, and when he gets down, Vince lifts his knee to hit Sherlock.

Sherlock immediately snaps up, reaching for his mouth. He knows Vince didn't knee him hard enough to knock out any teeth, but his fingers come away tinged with blood.

Vince nearly shouts. "You stupid little-"

"Hey!" John yells from somewhere behind Sherlock. Sherlock's too shocked to even turn around.

"What do you want, Watson?"

John stomps over, pushing Vince as hard as he can away from Sherlock. Vince braces himself against the table, leaning on it as John presses against him in a threatening way.

"You think it's funny, Vince?" John snarls. "Picking on the kid who isn't going to hit you back? Who isn't even big enough compared to you to knock you down?"

Vince grins. "Yeah, actually, it's quite funny when the freak cries."

"It ends now," John says. "You touch him again, I rip your fucking tongue out."

Vince tries to shove John away, but John doesn't budge. "What's it to you anyway, Watson? This your boyfriend or something?"

"Yeah he is, not that it's any of your business."

Sherlock sits up a little straighter. "John-"

"Shut up, Sherlock," John mutters, not taking his eyes off Vince. "Now, Vince, I think you have something to say to my boyfriend."

Vince snorts. "What, apologize? Fuck no, I'm not-"

John quickly darts at Vince. Vince winces roughly, obviously thinking John is going to punch him, but John grabs his shirt collar instead. Still, Vince is pretty shaken.

"Well?" John nearly shouts.

"John-" Sherlock tries again.

John pries his gaze away from Vince to look at Sherlock. "I said to shut up, my love," he softly says.

Sherlock sinks back again.

John looks at Vince once again and tightens his grip on Vince's shirt collar to be tighter around Vince's neck.

"S-sorry," Vince stammers out.

"Not to me, you arse."

Vince looks at Sherlock. "Sorry."

"Louder!" John shouts, right in his face.

"Sorry!" Vince practically yells.

John lets him go. "Get the fuck out of here and don't you dare touch him again."

Vince quickly runs out of the room, clearly more embarrassed than frightened.

John looks down at Sherlock, who is visibly just as embarrassed as Vince. John ignores it, though. He reaches down and cradles Sherlock's chin with his hand. He leans down and lightly kisses Sherlock's puffy lips.

"Are you ok?"

Sherlock glances around the room at all the people watching. His cheeks heat up and his stomach turns. "I just...I..."

John just nods once, then pulls Sherlock out of his seat. He leads Sherlock through the library, passing the tables of people as they go.

John looks towards Brady and Declan is behind him. "Can someone grab our stuff?"

Both Brady and Declan nod.

Sherlock looks around at all the kids watching them, and to his shock none look judgmental or even all that shocked. The table of girls watch almost fondly and, some would say, sweetly at John.

They get out of the library and John grabs Sherlock's hand. He squeezes tight, as if he's the one who needs comforting.

They finally turn into an empty hallway and John pauses. He turns to Sherlock and grabs Sherlock's face.

"Does it hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? Should I call your dad?"

"No, no, and no," Sherlock says. "Just a bit shaken up, I guess."

John nods and brushes Sherlock's hair out of his face. "I'm so sorry, love."

"Thank you," Sherlock mutters. "For being there."

John nods, then takes Sherlock in a tight hug. "I hate seeing you hurt."

"I know," Sherlock says.

John pulls back enough to kiss Sherlock again. Their kiss doesn't turn into much though, because Sherlock's mouth is still bloody.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

"But I'll have to go home," Sherlock frowns.

"Let's go to the public library," John says. "You don't need to stay here."

Sherlock nods.

"You go get your mouth cleaned up and I'll get out stuff from the library. Meet you out front in a few minutes."

"Ok, John."

John rubs Sherlock's shoulders. "Are you ok?"

Sherlock nods.

John kisses his cheek, then rushes down the hall.

They meet minutes later, then leave the school.

* * *

Sherlock manages to finish a third of his report before they have to leave for dinner. When they arrive, Declan is back, and Clement figures out that John and Sherlock weren't at school.

When they retell the events of the afternoon, Clement's anger at Sherlock subsides.

"I was there, Uncle," Declan confirms. "Vince knee'd him in the face for no reason whatsoever."

Clement nods and sighs. "I'm going to the school tomorrow. I want that kid gone."

After the incident, Sherlock doesn't argue. "I managed to finish a third of my paper," is all he says.

"Good. A third today, a third tomorrow, a third Wednesday and it'll be in by Friday."

Clement excuses himself from the table a minute later, but the boys stay.

"So," John starts. "What happened after we left?"

"Perry and the others followed Vince out. The girls at the table by ours were like, 'Oh I wish John was my boyfriend!'"

John laughs.

"And," Declan continues. "I asked Ellery for her phone number."

"Did you? Well done!"

"She didn't give it to me."

John and Sherlock laugh.

"Why not?"

"She said because she hardly knows me, that she'd rather get to know me better. Which is fine."

"Good luck getting her to go to the dance with you, then."

"I am nervous about that. But I'm just going to ask straight out, no grand gestures or anything. Nothing to freak her out."

"I think that's a good idea," John agrees.

"You two still aren't going?"

John looks at Sherlock. Sherlock shakes his head.

"Guess not," John says.

"That's too bad," Declan says.

* * *

The next morning, John's luck changes. They're standing at Sherlock's locker, along with Duke. Duke and Sherlock both complain about their anatomy reports while the other two talk about how easy it was.

As they're about to go to class, Olive shows up with them.

"Hey guys," Olive greets.

"Do you have a case?" Sherlock asks before anyone can greet her back.

"What? No."

Sherlock turns away. "Boring."

John shakes his head and turns to Olive. "What's up?"

"John, uhm..." she is clearly nervous, not a look John's seen on her. "I was wondering if you'd go to Winter Formal with me?"

Sherlock whirls around, stunned. Declan and Duke look at him as if waiting for his reaction.

"Oh, uhm..." John mutters.

"Does she not know..." Duke whispers to Sherlock.

"Of course I know, you clot," Olive says. "I'm not blind. I'm asking because my parents are using it as blackmail. They want me to socialize more, so they say if I go to the dance with an actual date then they'll drop my two month grounding."

"Oh," John mutters. "Well that's-"

"Just pretend to be heterosexual for an evening and I'll owe you big time. And that's why I'm asking you, because obviously being my date won't mean anything. My parents don't have to find out that you're gay."

John bites his lip. He does want to go, and Olive is easy going enough that he'd have a good time.

"Why not ask Duke?" Declan asks.

"I'm already going with Jenny to double date with my brother and Margo."

Olive nods in understanding.

John looks at Sherlock.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Olive says. "Just let me know on time to ask someone else, if you don't want to..." she glances at Sherlock, "Or can't."

John nods. "Sure," he says. "Thanks for the invite."

Olive politely smiles, then leaves the boys.

Declan closes his locker as soon as Olive leaves. "I'm going...away..." he says, then turns around to leave.

"I'll go with you," Duke says, following Declan.

John takes Declan's place in front of Sherlock and looks up at him. "So?"

Sherlock coldly replies, "I believe you were invited, not me."

"Come on, babe," John tries. "She asked me because she knows I'm with you. You heard her."

"Yes, but-"

"But what? I'm _your_ boyfriend?"

Sherlock nods.

"Then go with me."

"I don't want to."

"Then let me go with Olive and my friends. I could make this decision on my own, I don't need your permission. I just want to know that you're not going to dump me if I take a girl to the dance."

"Of course I'm not going to dump you, John."

"Then I can handle spending the rest of the month making it up to you."

Sherlock looks at him, right in the eye. "You really want to go?"

John nods.

Sherlock sighs. "Alright. Have fun with Olive, then. And I'm going over Friday night after the dance to get her stench off of you."

John grins. "Oh, now I'm really looking forward to this."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and begins to walk down the hall.

* * *

Sherlock doesn't know when Clement plans to go to the school to complain about Vince, but he just so happens to be going to the bathroom when Clement exits the office.

"Dad?" Sherlock calls down the hall, going to Clement.

Clement meets him halfway and greets him with a tight hug, kissing his cheek.

"What happened?" Sherlock asks, nervous but comforted by his dad's arms around him.

"Well," Clement starts, pulling away. "Vince's parents joined, as well, and he was expelled."

"Expelled? So…"

"So, he's gone."

Sherlock sighs relief. "That's amazing."

Clement glances down at his shoes.

Sherlock watches his dad and knows he's hiding something. "What?"

"The expulsion is temporary, pending a conference with the other kids who were in the library at the time."

"Ok, so? Everyone saw him do that to me, you heard Declan last night."

"Declan and John aren't allowed to be interviewed. Luckily, neither is Perry and their other friends."

"Alright, well, everyone still saw. Why is this bad?"

Clement places a hand on his shoulder. "Because you're kind of a butthead, son. We need to be prepared if people lie."

"They wouldn't—"

"We just need to be prepared."

Sherlock nods.

"I'm looking into different schools this afternoon."

"What?! No, Dad, I'm not—"

"You are, Sherlock. If Vince stays at this school, you're leaving."

"But Dad—"

"No 'buts', Sherlock. If Vince stays, you aren't."

Sherlock shakes his head. He's about to talk back, but Clement raises his hand.

"Enough. We'll talk later. Come straight home."

Sherlock scowls. "I still need to do my paper."

"You can do it at home."

For the first time, almost ever, Sherlock feels angry at his dad. He just glares.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. You know this is for the best."

"Just like it was for the best that Mycroft go to New York?"

Clement visibly turns angry. "Drop the attitude, Sherlock. I'm your dad and you're my son, and I want what's best for you. Getting your arse kicked every day isn't what's best for you."

Sherlock doesn't reply.

"I'll see you later," Clement says.

Sherlock just turns around and walks away.

* * *

He gets a text not even fifteen minutes later.

**From Mycroft Holmes **Be nice to Dad. We all want you to be safe. Even John would have to agree.

Sherlock ignores the text and resumes his day.

* * *

_**A/N: **_**badwold92myers _kind of asked for Olive to return, and I had planned to bring her back anyway! I liked her, too. Hope you enjoy, and if you're interested I'm recommending my newest story, _30 Day OTP Challenge (NSFW-version). _I had writer's block and just decided, what the heck? So please review, they're always appreciated! _**


	25. Chapter 25: Declan

**_A/N: Warning for sex at the end!_**

* * *

Sherlock tells John what's happening with Vince, and John tries to ensure him that everything's alright. They try to remember everyone who was in the library with them, but the only people they can remember are Ellery and Brady. They hope Headmaster Card doesn't realize that Brady is John's best friend, and Sherlock hopes Brady doesn't hate him enough to lie.

All afternoon, though, when people would get called out of class to go to the office, Sherlock's stomach would drop in realization that that person would probably lie.

That evening, Mycroft calls. Sherlock doesn't want to answer, he wants to pretend he's busy working on his anatomy paper, but on the other hand, when Clement asks why it's not finished, at least he can use Mycroft as an excuse.

"What?" Sherlock answers the phone.

Mycroft hangs up.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. He knows that Mycroft is just going to call back, and he'll keep hanging up until Sherlock answers nicely. He wants to keep the game going until Mycroft stops calling, but again, he wants the distraction.

His phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Ahh, My darling baby brother. How are you?"

Sherlock sighs, annoyed. "Fine."

"How was your day?"

"Shitty," Sherlock answers.

"How upsetting. I called for one reason and one reason only, so you'd better listen to me because I only have five minutes. Listen to Dad. He _is _your boss, you must do as he says. If Vince is allowed back at your school, you are leaving and that is final."

Sherlock sits up straight, as if fighting back in person.

"No, Sherlock. You're not talking your way out of it this time. I'm not even using _the voice. _You are leaving that school, whether you like it or not."

"And if I refuse?"

"I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind sending you to America either."

"He wouldn't."

"He would. The only reason you want to stay at your current school is for John, am I correct? John lives down the street, you can see him anytime."

"That's not—"

"If it's not, then why are you fighting this so much, hmm? You just don't want Dad to tell you what to do?"

Sherlock doesn't reply, unable to think of an answer.

"You're going. Be prepared."

Sherlock huffs in anger. "Fine."

"Good. Anything else?"

Sherlock is very angry at Mycroft, but Mycroft did say to talk to him if he needs anything. "Yeah, there is one thing."

"Is it important? Can it wait until later? I'm on my way into a meeting."

"I want to fuck John," Sherlock blurts.

Mycroft is silent. Sherlock hears the door of his office (he assumes) slam shut. "Go on."

"I just want to. I almost couldn't control myself the other day, when we were last together, and I just…"

"But you didn't?"

"No. I didn't think I was ready at the moment, but thinking about it more? I am."

"_This_ is your decision, Sherlock. Do you have everything you need for when the time comes?"

"Lubricant? Yeah.'

Mycroft takes a deep breath. "Are you sure you're ready for something like this? Sex, like this, is more than anything else, Sherlock. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah, I do. We have to be prepared…physically."

"And emotionally, Sherlock. This connection is a bigger connection than you'll ever feel with anyone."

"I know. And I want that with John."

Mycroft sighs. "If you're really ready."

"I am."

"Then I can't tell you not to."

"Oh," Sherlock says. "So I can decide whether or not I want to have sex with my boyfriend, but I can't choose which school I go to."

"Sherlock—"

"Fine, fine, whatever," Sherlock mutters. "You're late for your meeting."

"Too late to show up by now."

Sherlock checks his watch; it's just passed five o'clock his time and noon in New York. "Want to have lunch?"

"Alright," Mycroft says. "Meet me there in fifteen minutes."

Sherlock hangs up and goes downstairs. Clement's just finished with dinner, so he grabs a bowl and tells Clement that he's going to eat in his room to work on his paper. He sets up and waits, and minutes later his Skype tone rings through the room. Sherlock accepts the call and sees his brother on the screen, now holding a salad.

"What did Dad make?" Mycroft curiously asks.

Sherlock holds up his bowl. "Soup."

"Mmm," Mycroft sounds.

Their conversation continues about many different things. Sherlock accidentally mentions that he's stuck on his anatomy paper, so Mycroft helps as much as he can (practically dictating to Sherlock what to write). Sherlock also accidentally mentions that John is going to the dance with Olive, to which Mycroft asks if he's alright with that. Sherlock admits that he isn't, but he wants John to be happy.

"If Lestrade wanted to go on a date with someone while you're away, what would you think?" Sherlock asks.

Mycroft shrugs. "I don't know. I couldn't tell him not to."

"What if he wants to sleep with someone else?"

Mycroft shrugs again. "I don't think he will."

"I agree," Sherlock mutters.

Sherlock actually finishes his paper while talking to Mycroft, which he's happy about. When they hang up, he prints it out and takes it down to Clement.

"Who did you steal this from?" Clement questions.

"What?! Nobody."

Clement eyes him. "You were having dinner with Mycroft, weren't you?"

Sherlock looks at the ground.

Clement sighs. "At least it's done. I've got to run to the office for a bit, I wouldn't mind if you went down to John's."

Sherlock smiles widely and practically runs out of the house. He goes to John's house until nine, when Clement calls that he's home, and after that Sherlock is very happy, considering the events of the day.

* * *

On Wednesday, John, Declan, Brady, Duke, and Dane go to rent tuxedos. John and Declan decide to wear regular suits, but the other three boys don't have one. Sherlock decides to go along with them because he's ungrounded and still upset with his dad. Plus, seeing each other the night before was not enough.

"So boys," Dane starts, checking himself out in the mirror. "How far do you guys plan to go with your dates?"

"I plan to go as far as school," Duke says.

The boys laugh.

"You know what I mean," Dane says.

"Well, considering I am so uninterested in my date, I'm not going to do anything," Duke says. "What about you, Declan?"

Declan shrugs. "I want her phone number."

"You don't even have her number?!" Brady cries.

Declan shakes his head. "No. So at the dance I'm only going to put on the charm enough to maybe show her that I like her."

"I still can't believe you're taking Ellery, of all people," Dane says.

"Why?"

"You could have any girl at school, and you've chosen _Ellery_," Dane says.

"I like her, dude," Declan says.

"And John's going with Olive," Brady says, adjusting his tie in the mirror in front of him. "Olive's…nice, I guess. I haven't seen her smile since we were, like, seven, though."

The boys laugh.

"I like Olive," Declan says. "She's got something other girls don't, you know? She speaks her mind."

Brady laughs. "And John is lucky enough to take her to the dance. Right, buddy?"

John doesn't reply. He and Sherlock are sitting behind them on couches, out of view of the mirrors.

"John?" Brady turns around. They're sitting close together on the couch, kissing passionately, yet respectfully. "Earth to Johnlock!"

John and Sherlock jump apart and wipe their mouths.

"What?" John asks.

The boys laugh. Duke beams at them.

"I was commenting on the fact that your date is...a little scary, to be honest."

"Olive? She's harmless."

"Remember when she kicked Dane in the face while swinging on the monkey bars?"

The boys laugh again.

"I almost forgot about that," John says.

Dane touches his lip, where he has a faint scar. "I didn't."

"Any stories you guys have about Ellery?" Declan asks as their laughter dies down.

The boys all look between each other.

"Not really..." John mutters.

Declan shrugs. "She's wonderful."

The boys getting suits pose in the mirror.

"You guys look great," John tells them.

Declan examines the ties near them. "I wish I knew what color Ellery is wearing. I'd get a matching tie."

"Ask her tomorrow and we'll come back," John advises him.

Declan nods. "Good idea."

* * *

The next day, Declan asks. John goes with him because he can't find Sherlock. John stands to the side and Ellery just glances at him every few minutes.

"So, I was wondering what color of dress you're wearing to the dance?" Declan asks after exchanging pleasantries.

"Oh, uhm, listen," Ellery closes her locker and turns fully to Declan. "I don't..." she sighs. "I don't really feel...comfortable...in...in dresses."

Declan nods. "Well, I mean, I think '_formal_' means dressing up."

She bites her lip.

"But," he says, "I'm not the formal police. Wear whatever you want."

She looks distraught. "I'd feel a little silly there being the only person in jeans..."

"I'll wear jeans too," Declan says.

John looks at him, shocked.

"I can wear jeans," Declan repeats.

Ellery looks at her shoes. "I don't know, Declan..."

"It's ok, really," Declan says. "I certainly don't mind."

Ellery takes a deep breath. "Maybe...maybe I could wear a dress..."

"You don't have to."

"I'll think about it," she says. "If I do, it'll be purple."

"Purple? Great," Declan says. "How about you wear whatever you want and come to my house. That way I can get dressed once I see you."

Ellery nods. "Ok. Just you and I there?"

"Well, my uncle and Sherlock will be there. And, uh," Declan turns to John. "John, do you think you and Olive could leave from my house?"

"Leave with my female date from my boyfriend's house? Sure, what would go wrong?" John sarcastically asks.

"Perfect!" Declan says, turning to Ellery again.

She bites her lip, still looking uneasy. "Alright, sure," she finally says. "I'll go to your house. Just, uh…" she hands him a piece of paper and a pen. "Write down your address."

Declan happily does so, and once he's done, Ellery leaves.

"I am so excited!" Declan exclaims as he and John walk down the hall.

* * *

Friday rolls around and everyone is excited about the dance. The day goes by quickly, even for John (who gets ignored by his boyfriend all day).

At five o'clock, John goes over to the Holmes residence to wait for the girls. Even though Olive thought it was a bit weird, she agrees to meet John at Sherlock's house. After explaining that Ellery would be more comfortable with more people there, she was glad to do it. Especially since that meant John wouldn't have to meet her parents.

John arrives and Declan tells him Sherlock is sulking in the den. John doesn't really need to be told, for he can hear the records he bought loudly playing through the house.

Clement walks downstairs as John sheds his coat. "Ahh, boys!" he announces. "John, you look positively dashing. And those flowers you got for Olive are beautiful. Too bad Sherlock won't go with you. He's quite stubborn though. Well, you know that." Clement smiles at John as he goes to get his coat off the rack. "Sherlock told me what you're doing for Olive, and I think that's fine."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. When I was in school, my girlfriend was grounded the week of prom, so I ended up taking a friend of hers because _her _boyfriend was kicked out of school the day before."

"Oh?" John repeats. "And nothing happened between you and your date, right? I can tell Sherlock he has nothing to worry about?"

"Well…" Clement sighs, pulling his coat on. "I wouldn't say that."

"Oh, you kissed or what?"

"Well, I married her and she gave birth to my two beautiful sons. But yeah, if you want to tell Sherlock that nothing happened between her and I, that's fine."

John laughs. "Well, great."

Clement laughs, too. "I'm off. I will see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" John wonders.

"I've got a date with my prom date."

John laughs. "Good luck."

"Thank you, John. See you later."

Clement hugs him and heads out the door. Since Declan went upstairs, John goes to the study.

Sherlock is laying on the floor with books and two laptops around him. The music is still playing loudly, so John leans over and turns it down.

"Still upset with me?" John asks.

Sherlock doesn't reply.

John sighs and sits on the floor.

"You'll wrinkle your suit," Sherlock mutters.

John shrugs. "It's not like I'm really trying to impress her."

Sherlock nods.

John runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Please stop being so upset with me."

"Why?"

"Because this is your doing, Sherlock. I want to go and you won't go with me."

"Please, John. It's hardly my fault you want to go on a date with a girl."

"I'm not going on a date with her. I'm going to a dance with her and our friends, and that means nothing. She knows I'm with you, Sherlock. Please, just trust me."

Sherlock doesn't look at him.

The doorbell rings and they hear Declan running down the stairs. John chuckles, but Sherlock pays no attention to the commotion.

"John, Olive's here!" Declan calls.

"Well, see you later," John says, moving to stand.

"Maybe," Sherlock says.

John rolls his eyes and gets up without kissing Sherlock goodbye. He picks up the flowers he'd gotten for Olive and leaves the room.

John gives Olive a mini-tour of Sherlock's house (just the ground level) as Declan sits in the sitting room and stares out the window. Ellery had said her parents would drop her off at 5:10 and it's already 5:06. John can tell he's getting nervous.

"She'll come, dude," John tries to reassure him.

"Are you wearing _that_?" Olive asks, referring to Declan's t-shirt and jeans.

"I don't know yet," Declan tells her.

At 5:14, a car pulls up in front of the house. Declan jumps off the sofa and runs to the door, but he takes a deep breath and waits for her to ring the doorbell. He grabs a book off the side entry table and holds it.

"What's that, the Bible?" Olive jokes.

John laughs.

"No," Declan snaps. "Girls like flowers from their dates, but Ellery told me last week that she is allergic to flowers. So I got her a book."

"That's actually kind of sweet, Declan," Olive says, as if shocked.

Declan can't thank her, for the doorbell rings right then. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

His jaw drops, and John and Olive scramble off the sofa to see what's made him react that way. When they get there, their jaws drop too; Ellery's deep purple dress is visible under her pea coat and her hair is down and straight, whereas it's usually up in a bun or ponytail.

"You look amazing," Declan says.

"Yeah, Ellery," John joins. "Very beautiful."

Declan holds the book out for Ellery and offers her inside. "I didn't get you flowers, but I got you this book. It's my favorite book, I hope you like it."

"I love it Declan, thank you," she says.

Declan excuses himself to get dressed and John shows the girls to the sitting room. Almost as soon as they sit, the record player music is turned up higher, so John stands again.

"You know what? I'll be right back. You two make yourselves at home, really."

The girls don't question him, so John rushes to the study.

John shuts the door and locks it behind him. Sherlock doesn't even look at him, he just continues reading out of a textbook. So John steps over and kneels next to Sherlock, then takes the book out of his hand.

"Hey—" Sherlock tries, but John stops him.

John takes hold of Sherlock's hands and pin them above his head as he climbs on top of Sherlock. Sherlock doesn't stop him, not even when John lies completely over him and kisses him deeply.

"Please stop being upset with me," John whispers between kisses.

"Why?" Sherlock asks.

"Because I love you," John says, then lets go of Sherlock's hands and begins to kiss down his body.

"John, what are you—"

John gets down to his jeans and unbuckles him. He spreads wet kisses along Sherlock's stomach and hip and pulls at his pants until Sherlock lifts his hips. John pulls Sherlock's jeans and underpants off, then without warning, swallows his already half-hard cock.

"_John_!" Sherlock gasps, clutching at John's hair. "God, John…"

John moans around Sherlock's cock, then begins to suck him in rhythm to the violin playing in the background.

Sherlock knows he's doing it, and he loves it. He moans as quietly as he can, to not drown out the music, and he comes down John's throat before the song even ends.

Sherlock relaxes against the floor and John sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Well?" John questions.

"Forgiven," Sherlock replies, panting. "Thoroughly forgiven."

John grins.

Sherlock sits up and reaches for John's belt, but John waves him off. "Gotta go, love. Come by after the dance and I'll be ready for you."

"But my dad—"

"He's out on a date with your mum," John tells him. "Will he even know you're gone?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Be there at ten."

Sherlock nods.

John leans over and grabs his face, then kisses him deeply.

"I love you," John says as he pulls away.

"I love you, too."

John smiles at him once, then gets off the floor. He leaves Sherlock there looking utterly debauched; his jeans are still undone, his hair is a mess, his lips are stained red and swollen. John's heart beats faster when he looks back at him.

"One more thing, love," John says, unlocking the door. "0-4-0-2-0-3."

Sherlock looks confused. "What does that mean?"

John grins. "You figure it out," is all he says, then leaves the room.

Sherlock falls back at the floor and stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out what that means.

* * *

**_A/N: This chapter will be continued later. more about the dance, and more importantly: what the boys do after the dance. Hope you enjoy, please review! _**


	26. Chapter 26: Complete

_**A/N: Hello! As usual, thank you for reading! Please review, you know the drill. **_

_**This chapter has a warning for sex!**_

* * *

The two couples go to dinner before the dance. John drives Harry's car because Harry said she was having an evening in anyway.

"You look great, Olive," John tells her as they drive to school after dinner.

"You look upset," she replies.

John looks at her, confused. "Upset?"

"You've just been awfully quiet, that's all. I can't help but feel like you regret coming."

"What? No way! I just…" John sighs.

"Feel bad about leaving Sherlock."

John shrugs. "Can't help it, you know?"

Olive nods. "Well, when we get to the actual dance, you think you'll feel better? If not, we already got a photo for my parents, you can just take me elsewhere and you can go home."

"No, no," John says. "I'm sorry. I'm not wasting this evening. You got a dress, I got a suit, we're going."

Olive smiles.

John smiles at her.

In the backseat, Ellery is staring out the window and Declan is staring at her.

"You look beautiful," Declan chokes out.

Olive and John quiet so they can hear.

Ellery slowly turns to him. "Uhm…"

"Your dress," Declan clarifies. "It's, uhm…purple."

Ellery smiles. "I said it would be."

Declan chuckles.

Ellery grabs her purse from between them and opens it, then begins to adjust everything inside. "Oh, shoot," she mutters after a second.

"What?" Declan frantically asks.

"Nothing, it's just…there's a hole in my purse."

"Oh? I'm sorry."

"It's ok. All my stuff is going to fall out, though."

"Well, here," Declan says. "What do you need?"

"Phone, lip balm, uhm…"

Declan grabs her phone and her chapstick out of the purse and puts them in his jacket pocket. Then, he gets her inhaler for good measure. "How's that?"

Ellery just smiles at him.

John and Olive exchange a knowing smile.

When they get to the dance, they meet with Duke and his date.

"Where's Dane?" John asks after greetings.

Duke waves off in the direction of the school. "They left us. Whatever."

Jenny doesn't look happy about it, either.

They get in line to enter, and Ellery asks to go back to the car really fast.

"Why, are you ok?" Declan asks. "Do you need me to hold something else?"

"Oh, could you maybe, uhm..." Ellery bites her lip and slowly removes her glasses. She holds them out for Declan to take.

"What, you want me to wear them?"

She slightly smiles. "No, just hold them."

"Why? You've got to wear them."

She stares at the glasses in her hand and obviously looks uneasy. "You've said you like my glasses numerous times before. Do you have some sort of fetish or something?"

Everyone laughs.

Ellery glances at everyone in horror, as if she's forgotten they were there.

"No," Declan gets her attention again. He takes her hands and pushes them towards her body. "They're your glasses, they're part of your face. I don't want you to change that, and I definitely don't want my date falling all over everything all night."

Ellery puts her glasses back on.

"See? Beautiful," Declan says, holding his arm out for her to take.

Ellery blushes and takes his arm. Olive and John nearly squeal in delight behind them.

They finally get inside and to their table. The boys politely take the girl's coats and hang them on the back of their chairs, and when John sits, he finally checks his phone. He's got ten text messages from Sherlock.

**From Sherlock Holmes (17:40)** 040203?

**From Sherlock Holmes (17:42)** A date?

**From Sherlock Holmes (17:50)** in 2003, more specifically, February of 2003, we were seven. So the year we met, surely.

**From Sherlock Holmes (18:01)** The day we met.

**From Sherlock Holmes (18:07)** A password.

**From Sherlock Holmes (18:14)** oh John, you treat me so well.

**From Sherlock Holmes (18:15)** Taking David's case.

**From Sherlock Holmes (18:20)** Solved David's case.

**From Sherlock Holmes (18:27)** Taking Cecil's case next. Theft cases are always good.

**From Sherlock Holmes (19:00)** I love you, John.

John smiles at the last text. He replies.

**To Sherlock Holmes** I love you too, honey. See you later. I still expect you at my house.

He doesn't get a reply, not that he minds.

"Punch?" Olive asks.

"I'll get it," John offers, standing and stuffing his phone into his pocket. He makes his way over to the refreshments table and gets his and Olive's punch.

"John!" he hears as he's about to head back to Olive. He looks around and finds Lily approaching him.

"Oh, hello!" John cries, hugging Lily back when she practically attacks him.

"So glad you could make it! What do you think?" she gestures around the room.

"It's…lovely," he mutters, confused.

"I was in charge of decorating!" she tells him.

"Oh!" John cries. "Well, yes, very lovely."

"Where's Sherlock?" Lily asks, looking around.

John sighs. "He stayed home. I'm here with Olive Degas."

"Olive? Well, that's fun! Listen, I'm having an after party at my house. Hope you can come. And bring Sherlock!"

John nods, not wanting to deny the invitation.

"Harvey will find you later. I don't know where he went off to. Anyway, see you!" She leans over and kisses his cheek, then rushes away to greet a few other people.

John's about to make his way back to their table when someone bumps into him, making his punch slosh all over the face. "Ahh, hell," he mutters.

"Watch where you're going, Watson," he hears next to him.

He cringes and squeezes the cups in his hands when he recognizes Vince's voice. He swings around and glares.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the dance. I ain't expelled yet."

John rolls his eyes and turns to walk away.

"Where's your freak, anyway? I'd love you say hello."

Just turns back to him. "You fucking-"

Olive grabs John's arm before he can throw a cup at Vince. "This arse bothering you, John?"

Vince bursts into laughter. "Got some sense, eh Watson? Swapped out your queer for this-"

"Don't you dare insult me, you piece of trash," Olive says. "I will kick your arse, Vince. Just like I did five years ago. "

Vince glares at her and takes a step back.

"Come on, John," Olive says, pulling at John's elbow.

"When did you kick his arse?" John curiously asks as they make their way back to the table.

"Five years ago," she repeats. "He grabbed my bum in the middle of class, so I punched him in the face. Kicked him in the ribs, too."

John laughs. "Did you get in trouble?"

Olive shakes her head. "Teacher was out of the room, and do you think he wanted to admit that a girl floored him?"

John laughs harder. "No, guess not."

Now John happily makes his way back to their table, and by then Brady and Jenna have arrived.

"Wow, Jenna, your dress is gorgeous!" John says in greeting.

"Thanks, John," Jenna says, smiling. "And look! New earrings! My dad bought me a new pair after I told him everything that happened with my old ones. Like?"

John examines the little blue elephants on her ears. "Adorable," he says.

Jenna smiles widely and sits back on her chair.

John greets Brady, and he's happy that Brady is happy all evening. Sure, he's with Jenna, one of the most beautiful girls in school, but John can't help but think he's happy because Sherlock isn't there.

Nonetheless, he enjoys his time with his best friend. He laughs when Brady, who has never done anything like this, dances like an idiot with Jenna. He smiles when Jenna plants kisses on his cheek, and he bursts with happiness when Brady wraps his arms around Jenna and kisses her lips. He thoroughly enjoys spending time with Brady that evening.

After dancing for a while, Olive observes that Declan isn't on the dance floor with them. John looks around and spots Declan and Ellery sitting at their table, deep in conversation. Declan looks at her as if she's all he sees, and Ellery looks at him like she's surprised he's there. It does make John sad, though, knowing Declan's probably the first boy to ever pay attention to such an amazing girl like Ellery.

John does miss Sherlock, though, so around nine, he leaves the building to call Sherlock.

"Yes?" Sherlock answers.

John smiles. "How's it going?"

"Fine. Cecil's case is a lot more complex than I previously thought."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he says items of his are being stolen, but there's not a pattern of items stolen or time of the thefts. They're on various days, and many different items."

"Did you talk to him already? Because I read that email, and—"

"Yes, he answered when I called. He's not at the dance, either."

John looks around. "Oh, I suppose not."

Sherlock doesn't say anything.

"So, I'll be heading out of here in about half an hour. Are you still going to my house?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course."

"Then, I will."

"Your dad isn't back yet?"

"Nope," Sherlock says. "Won't be until very late."

"Good," John says. "I've got to go. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye," Sherlock says, then hangs up.

John returns to the dance and resumes dancing with his friends.

They all decide to leave at 9:30, because Ellery needs to be home by ten and they're hopeful there won't be much traffic.

As John and Olive make their way back to their table, Declan is standing and holding his hand out.

"Just one dance?" he asks Ellery.

Ellery bites her lips. "Uhm, sure…" She takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet.

They get to the dance floor right as the song turns slow. Ellery places a hand on her side, in a respectful position, and takes her other hand.

John and Olive can't hear them, but John assumes he's asking Ellery if she's ever danced before, because she looks terribly clumsy at it. Declan takes it slow, easily guiding her around the floor.

Finally, Ellery smiles.

"Is it bad how much I want them to work out?" Olive mutters, also watching them.

"I do too. Declan's really trying."

"I can tell. As a girl, I can't help but not trust him, though. Let's hope he gives men a good name and treats her well."

"Oh, we're not all bad."

"No, just boys like Declan."

"Well," John mutters, "Like I said. He's trying."

Olive nods and silently watches the couple.

They all get into the car and don't speak the entire way to Ellery's house. The traffic is minimal, so they get there well before ten. Declan quickly jumps out of the car and rushes around to open her door.

"I'll walk you to the door," he says, helping her out.

John and Olive watch from the street.

"He needs to seal the deal," Olive says. "Just kiss her!"

"No! She'd flip! He's playing it cool."

Olive shakes her head.

They see Ellery take a scrap of paper out of her purse and hand it to Declan. He smiles widely and holds it in his hand, then they see him say goodbye. Ellery nervously bites her lip, then stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Then, she grabs her inhaler and rushes inside.

Declan practically flies to the car.

"I got her number, I got her number!" he sings, putting on his seatbelt.

"Well done, mate!" John says.

"Yeah, good job, Declan. Now just don't fuck it up."

Declan scowls. "I won't!"

They drop Olive off at her house next.

"Thanks John. I actually had a great time."

"Me too! Thanks for the invite."

Olive just pats his shoulder, then gets out of the car and rushes to the door.

On their way back, Declan says he can walk home. John nods and goes to his own home, and Sherlock's already there waiting on the front step.

Declan smirks as he gets out of the car. "You two have fun now," he says. "I'm going home."

"Not to Lily's party?" John wonders.

Declan shakes his head. "Nah, man. I had a great night, I want to go to bed this happy."

John pats his back. "See you later."

Declan begins down the street, walking backwards to still face them. He points at them and grins. "You two be careful."

Sherlock just rolls his eyes and rushes into the house when John unlocks the door.

* * *

"How is your case going?" John asks.

"Brilliantly," Sherlock replies, practically ripping his coat off.

John watches him and laughs. "Sherlock, relax. We have all night."

"My dad will be home at midnight. And if my mother is with him, she'll check on me."

"Oh, well," John says, crowding him close. "We have until 11:50."

Sherlock looks around the sitting room, as if someone is there watching them. "Where is Harry?"

John shrugs. "If she's here, she's in bed. Just keep it down a bit and we can do whatever you want."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow and visibly relaxes. "I need to keep it down?"

John nods and chuckles. He smiles against Sherlock's lips and kisses him lightly.

Sherlock pulls away after only a second and grabs John's hand. "Let's go, please?"

John just grins and lets Sherlock pull him upstairs.

John gets his coat and suit jacket off as soon as they get into his bedroom. Sherlock pulls at John's tie, which is already pretty loose.

He pulls the knot fully and the tie falls off. "Why is your tie practically undone?" Sherlock questions.

John chuckles. "Because it got hot at the dance and—"

Sherlock looms close and slowly sniffs John's neck. "I smell her," Sherlock says. "I smell her hands on you."

"Well, we did dance," John says, obviously not needing to hide anything.

Sherlock practically growls from low in his throat. "Mine," he whispers in John's ear.

John shivers. Sherlock's always, _always _been territorial, even when they were kids, but this is a new kind of territorial. John is _his, _in every sense of the word, and John happens to love it.

"Yours," John whispers back.

Sherlock pulls away and looks John in the eye. John can see his wide pupils and the red tinge to his skin.

They're standing in John's bedroom, still near the door, and they've hardly even kissed, but when John palms Sherlock's crotch, he finds Sherlock hot and heavy in his pants already. Sherlock huffs, pushing his hips into John's hand.

Now, they kiss. Sherlock dives in for a kiss so intense that the air leaves John's lungs. Sherlock pushes John over to his bed and John falls backwards, his legs hanging off the bed. Sherlock stands between his legs.

"Are you ready?" Sherlock asks, placing a hand on John's cheek.

John just looks up at him, miles and miles up it seems, and nods. He bites his lip, but Sherlock pulls with his thumb until John lets his lip go. Then, Sherlock leans down and bites John's lip himself.

"Ughhh," John sounds from the back of his throat.

"Say it," Sherlock demands. "Say that you're ready."

"I'm ready," John mutters. "I'm ready, Sherlock, I'm so ready."

Sherlock begins to unbutton John's shirt with John is still sitting back on his elbows. "Ready for what?"

John watches as his own skin peeks through the shirt. He swallows roughly, "Ready for you to fuck me."

"I don't want to just fuck you, John," Sherlock says, pushing the sides of John's shirt apart. "I want to _devour_ you." Sherlock leans over and sucks at John's right nipple.

"God—" John sighs. "Yes, Sherlock…"

"I want to _consume_ you," Sherlock says this time, kissing his way to John's other nipple.

John just pants and throws his head back, unable to do anything else at all.

"What I want, John," Sherlock takes hold of John's head. "Is to be inside of you," he says, thrusting his tongue into John's mouth and conveying to John what he'd like to do.

Within three minutes after that, they're both naked and stretched out on the bed. Sherlock gets the lube from John's bedside table, where he'd left it after last time, and continues to kiss John passionately.

"Come on," John says after a while. "Come on, Sherlock…"

Sherlock nods and kisses John one more time, then gets on his knees to sit between John's legs. John's spread out for him and Sherlock leans over to kiss his stomach, then knees, then back up to his mouth.

When Sherlock sits back again, he grabs the lube.

"You look good there, baby," John says, nodding at Sherlock's erection.

Sherlock grins, rubbing the lube around his hand to warm it. "As do you, my love."

John blushes, but Sherlock continues to smile.

Sherlock is just as gentle as he was the first time he'd fingered John, if not a little bit more eager. Since John knows what to expect, he begs for Sherlock to go quicker, but Sherlock stays at a careful pace. Sherlock is also cautious of rubbing John's prostate, so he focuses on only stretching John.

Finally, after what seems like hours later, John tells Sherlock he's ready.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asks, scissoring and spreading his fingers inside John to stretch him more.

John frantically nods. "If your cock doesn't get in me in the next thirty seconds, I'm going to cry."

Sherlock can't help but laugh. "I don't do well with you crying."

"Then get up here and fuck me like you mean it," John demands.

"Your demanding voice gets me hot, John," Sherlock jokingly says. "But I think I'm going to need a little bit more convincing."

John bites his lip. "_Sherlock_…" he moans, beginning to move his hips in an up-and-down motion. "Oh, Sherlock…"

Sherlock watches, mesmerized. He begins to wonder how amazing John thrusting on top of him will look, but he wants to be on top of John first. He kisses John's stomach again while pulling his fingers out.

John rubs lube onto Sherlock. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he feels how hard Sherlock is. "I need you," John whispers. "I need you, now, please?"

Sherlock just nods, now getting on top of John. He settles one forearm on the bed next to John's shoulder, his fingers in John's hair. "Are you ok?" he asks.

"Yes," John says, knowing Sherlock wants to actually hear it. "I'm ok."

Sherlock nods again and kisses John lovingly. "I love you," he whispers when he pulls away.

"I know, baby," John says. "I love you, too."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and reaches down for his cock, lining it up against John's hole. John bites his lip as Sherlock slowly pushes, the first impact making them both shutter with sensitivity.

"Feels good," John mutters, breathless. "Right there, against my hole, it—"

Sherlock nods in agreement, but he continues to push.

"Ahh, geez!" John groans. "That feels better, oh my—"

John doesn't tell him to stop, and Sherlock knows he would if it hurt or was too uncomfortable, so Sherlock takes the lack of as permission to continue. He pushes slowly, pulling minutely out to thrust back in, and soon he's completely surrounded by John's body.

"How is that?" Sherlock asks, his other hand going to John's face.

"Amazing," John says. "Amazing, Sherlock, I—" he cuts himself off by kissing Sherlock. When he dips his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, they become one; a complete circle.

After many long seconds that seem eternal, John digs his heels into Sherlock's bum and locks his legs around Sherlock's waist.

"Thrust, baby," John whispers. "Please?"

Sherlock licks at John's mouth again, then pulls his cock halfway out before thrusting back in. John groans loudly in delight, Sherlock hitting his prostate on the first try.

"Ssshh!" Sherlock whispers, kissing John again. But he doesn't let up, he thrusts again and again and again until he's got a slow, easy rhythm.

John nearly bites his tongue, but he just continues to moan with every thrust from Sherlock.

Sherlock leaves off John's mouth and dives in to his neck, licking and sucking on every inch of John's neck he can reach. John scratches his back and grabs his bum.

"You can make noise," John says into Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock shakes his head, then pumps up the tempo and thrusts into John only a little bit harder. He pulls up onto his elbows above John for more leverage.

"Touch your cock," Sherlock whispers, though his voice sounds strained. "Please, I want to—" he cuts himself off with a low groan.

John reaches between them and grabs his cock roughly, stroking as well as he can in time with Sherlock's magnificent thrusts. "God, so good, love, so perfect," John moans, his head falling back against the pillow. His hips begin to squirm and he meets each of Sherlock's thrusts. "I'm going to—"

Sherlock licks John's neck again, right at a spot that he knows John loves, and right then John begins to come all over his stomach. Sherlock stills to feel the pulsing of John around his cock, and seconds later he comes deep inside John for the first time.

Their breathing seems to take forever to slow, but when it finally does, Sherlock pulls out and falls off John with a deep sigh.

"Oh my god," John mutters, as if shocked.

Sherlock quickly looks at him. "What?!"

"Why haven't we been doing that this entire time?"

Sherlock laughs, breathless. "Good?"

"Fucking brilliant," John says. He looks at Sherlock. "What about for you?"

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just leans over and kisses John slowly.

"So…good?" John asks when they pull apart.

Sherlock just smiles.

They silently lay in the bed for long minutes. John gets tissue and cleans up as much as he can, then climbs back into the bed with Sherlock. "You've still got a while before your parents get home," John says, checking his phone for the time.

"Oh, I lied about that."

John stares at him. "What?"

"They've left town. They said they trusted me to be home alone, so they went to god-knows-where. Won't be back until tomorrow."

"So…you lied because…"

"Because I wanted to get you into bed quicker."

John laughs. "Prick."

"It worked, didn't it?"

John shakes his head, still laughing. "So you're staying over?"

Sherlock shrugs. "If you'll have me."

John attacks him and wraps his arms around Sherlock. Sherlock turns onto his side to let John press against his back. They get into a comfortable position and fall silent.

After a few minutes, when John thinks Sherlock is asleep, Sherlock whispers, "I'm so happy right now, John."

John nuzzles the back of Sherlock's head. "I am too, Sherlock."

"No, I mean…" Sherlock sighs. "I just love you so much, and I know I should worry about school, and my brother, and my parent's relationship, and growing up, but…" Sherlock takes a deep breath. "You're all I need."

John props himself up and pushes Sherlock half onto his back. He pushes Sherlock's hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead. "You're all I need too, Sherlock. And I'm not going anywhere, ever. Alright?"

Sherlock nods. "Alright."

John kisses his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

John resumes his position behind Sherlock, and he strokes Sherlock's side and arm. In minutes he feels Sherlock's body slump with sleep, so he follows Sherlock and joins him in dreams.


	27. Chapter 27: Trouble

**_A/N: Please tell me you all are enjoying this story. I like writing it, even though there isn't much to the plot. So please review, always appreciated! And I hope everyone had a fantastic holiday! _**

* * *

Sherlock wakes up the next morning to his phone vibrating roughly next to his head, as if more urgent than usual. He lets it go to voicemail, then cracks his eyes open to check his phone.

He bolts upright in bed when he sees "7 Missed Calls".

"Fuck, fuck," Sherlock groans, unlocking his phone.

"Hmmm?" John sighs behind him.

"Fuck," is all Sherlock says, finding that all seven missed calls are from Clement. "My dad called seven times."

"Shit," John mutters, sitting up in bed.

Sherlock holds his phone to his ear and scrambles to get his pants on. John watches, admittedly very mesmerized by the moving of Sherlock's pale hips.

"Dad, yea—" Sherlock stops talking, stops moving, and John sees the little bit of color drain from his body as he can hear Clement yelling through the phone. "Ok," is all Sherlock says, softly, then hangs up.

They get dressed quickly and talk about a lie to tell.

"Tell your dad a bunch of people spent the night. My mum wasn't here, but I can have Harry cover."

"And if my dad doesn't believe me?"

John shrugs. "Tell him the truth."

"I can't do that, my dad would never let us be alone ever again."

"You know," John says, handing Sherlock his shirt. "I don't understand the big deal with this. We're seventeen, not twelve. What's your dad got against us _doing _anything?"

"He just doesn't want us hurt. I don't really get it either, but I don't want what freedom we do have to end."

John nods. "It'll be ok, babe."

Sherlock tugs his coat on and looks at John. "Sorry to ruin our—"

"You didn't, love. It was perfect, this doesn't change that."

Sherlock nods.

John grabs him by the coat lapels and pulls him close. "I love you so much. Call me later, ok?"

Sherlock nods. "I love you, too."

John gives him a faint smile, then steps up on his toes and kisses Sherlock lightly.

* * *

Sherlock leaves immediately, not even five minutes after hanging up with Clement. He knows it'd be wise to rush home, but he's afraid, so he walks as slowly as he can.

Clement's at the door when he arrives. His arms are crossed and he looks very angry. Sherlock takes a deep breath and anticipates yelling.

"Where've you been?"

"John's," Sherlock honestly states. He plans to lie, though.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"I was asleep."

"With John?"

Sherlock swallows. "Yes."

"Is there more to the story?"

"We weren't alone," Sherlock coolly says. "A few others were there."

"Oh? Who?"

"Brady and Jenna."

"So, two couples at John's house with no adult supervision, and you expect me to not be angry?"

"Harry was there," Sherlock says. "Yeah, and a few others. Olive and Duke stayed, too. They're not a couple."

"Was Declan there?"

Sherlock doesn't know whether or not Declan being there will help his case, so he pauses. Clement raises an eyebrow. "Y-yes."

"Declan!" Clement calls.

They hear Declan exit his bedroom and go to the stairs. "Yes, Uncle?"

Sherlock's standing with his back to Declan, so he can't give Declan any sort of warning. Clement watches both of them closely. "Did you spend the night at John's last night?"

Sherlock's stomach drops.

"Yeah," Declan says, smooth as ever.

"Then why were you here when I got home?"

"I can home around, oh, ten o'clock? Yeah, everyone was still asleep, so I slipped out unnoticed."

"Everyone?" Clement questions.

"Yeah, uh, Brady, Jenna, Duke, Olive, and…what's Jenna's friend's name? Oh, right! Alex."

Clement glances between them. Sherlock's expression doesn't change.

"Fine," Clement says. "But you're grounded for a few days for not letting me know that you'd be staying at John's."

"Ok. Sorry, Dad."

Clement hugs Sherlock, but Sherlock squirms away quickly (feeling really odd hugging his dad after not showering after having sex). He goes to the stairs and he and Declan start up.

"You too, Declan," Clement calls. The boys pause on the stairs. "Grounded for a few days for not letting me know you'd be staying at John's."

'Uh…ok," Declan mutters. "Sorry, Uncle."

Clement just nods and lets the boys go upstairs.

"Dude, what the hell?" Declan starts as they walk down the hall to their bedrooms. "Where've you been?"

"At John's! We were asleep, I didn't hear my phone. How'd you know to lie for me?"

"I'm not stupid," Declan says. "I just named people who John would've invited to spend the night."

"Well," Sherlock sighs. "Thank you."

Declan pauses at his bedroom door. "You owe me, dude. I'm grounded, too!"

Sherlock pats his shoulder. "Alright. Thank you, again."

Declan nods. "Go bathe now. You stink."

Sherlock just smiles, then leaves Declan alone.

Sherlock takes a quick shower, then gets out when he hears his phone ring.

"Hello?" Sherlock answers, scrambling to get a towel on.

"Was your dad shouting that entire time?" John asks instead of a greeting.

"No. I just got out of the shower."

"Oh? What are you doing now?"

Sherlock grunts. "Trying to get the towel around my waist."

A tone rings through Sherlock's ear indicating he's receiving a FaceTime call. He grins and answers, then sees John's smiling face on the screen.

"I love this phone," John tells him. "I couldn't even see the screen on my old one."

"I know. That's why I bought you this one."

"I know, I know," John says. "So, are you in trouble?"

Sherlock sets his phone down on the sink and props it up so he can still see John, and John can see him. John grins as Sherlock takes the towel from around his waist to dry his body.

"No," Sherlock says, "Well, kind of. I lied, just like you said to. But I'm still grounded for a few days for not letting my dad know I'd be spending the night with you."

"Well, that's good then."

"Declan's grounded, too, so I owe him big time."

John chuckles. "Thank him for me, then."

Sherlock smiles at him.

John licks his lips and watches Sherlock pull clean pants on. "I had a really great night last night," John says. "Like…_really _great."

"As did I," Sherlock says. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

John smiles. He's about to reply when Sherlock begins to get another call.

Sherlock frowns and tugs a shirt on. "John, I'll call you back. It's my brother."

"Ok babe. Talk soon."

Sherlock smiles one last time, then ends the FaceTime call to answer Mycroft.

"Isn't it a bit early for you to be up?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes," Mycroft says. "You can imagine how upset I am about being woken up after only two hours of sleep by Dad frantically asking where you are."

"Oh…"

"Yes, 'oh'. Why did you lie to him?"

"Lie? I didn't—"

"Dad was seventeen once, Sherlock. He knows you and John were alone."

Sherlock decides not to fess up quickly. "Why does he think that? I'm not—"

Mycroft sighs. "All he wants, Sherlock, is for you to talk to him. Talk to Dad the way you talk to me."

"So, you want me to tell him—"

"Ok, don't tell him word-for-word everything you've told me. But let him know that you and John are safe and just want a little bit more freedom. With a talk like that, he'll know you're mature enough to be in a relationship like this. Especially if you don't call sex '_something-something_'."

Sherlock chuckles. "Alright."

"Talk to him as soon as you can, Sherlock. The sooner you get this over with, the more trust you'll earn. Especially today."

"Okay."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed. It is a very nice Saturday out and I don't want to waste it talking to you."

"Ha-ha. Why did you get so little sleep?"

"I worked very late, and as a celebration for finishing what needed to be done and earning nearly six million dollars in investments, a few of us went out for drinks."

"A few of you?"

"Yes."

Sherlock can tell by the sudden spike in Mycroft's tone that he's not telling the truth. "Do you know that I know when you lie?"

Mycroft sighs. "Think what you will."

"You went out with a man, didn't you?"

"No, Sherlock, I—"

"What about Lestrade?" Sherlock questions, suddenly feeling very defensive of Lestrade. "What about—"

"There's a lot you don't understand, Sherlock. He and I are both adults and we know what we want."

"And what you want is to see other people?"

"Well," Mycroft snaps, "we're not seeing each other, are we Sherlock?"

Sherlock huffs.

"I'm sorry," Mycroft says. "I'm tired. Talk to Dad and I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Sherlock replies, feeling very upset with Mycroft.

"Goodbye."

"Bye."

Sherlock feels too annoyed to call John back. If Mycroft and Lestrade aren't going to be together, after knowing how much they like each other, that doesn't give him much faith in his relationship with John. And what happens if Mycroft comes home and he and Lestrade don't get together again? He can't let that throw off his entire balance of the world. Mycroft means Lestrade, and it has since they met last year. If there isn't any Mycroft and Lestrade, does that mean he won't get case any more? There's too much running through his mind, so he lays down to take a nap.

* * *

When he wakes up, Declan is gone, so that leaves Sherlock alone with Clement. His stomach turns as he sits at the island, where Clement is preparing vegetables to add to the soup he's making. Clement watches him with a knowing look.

"Look, Dad," Sherlock says once he's settled. "I, uh, I wasn't honest with you."

Clement takes a deep breath. "I know."

"Why didn't you just confront me, then?"

"Because _you_ need to come to _me_ when you have something to talk about, Sherlock. I can't start the conversation."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd be overstepping as a parent. If I went to you each time you had a problem, I'd never leave your side. Understand?"

Sherlock nods.

"Now," Clement sets down the knife he's using to cut carrots. "Talk to me, son."

"Ok, well," Sherlock takes a deep breath. "I'm, uh…" he pauses, unsure of how much to tell his father. "John and I are ready to…to be intimate."

Clement takes a deep breath, but his expression doesn't change. "Okay."

"And we, uhm, already...we already have been…"

Clement nods. "Last night?"

Sherlock doesn't meet his gaze. He looks down at his lap. "Yes…"

"Okay," Clement repeats. "Were you careful?"

Sherlock throws his arms up in the air. "Dad, what is the big deal? What does that even mean? Yeah, I didn't get him pregnant, is that it?"

Clement can't hold back a smile, then a laugh. It makes Sherlock laugh, too, because he replays how ridiculous that sounded in his head. They fall into a long fit of laughter, but finally they begin to relax.

"You know what I mean, son," Clement says, still chuckling. "But if one of you did end up pregnant, could you imagine how famous we'd get?"

"Oh god, Dad," Sherlock covers his face. "Stop."

"No, think about it! We'd be on the news, we'd be known worldwide! I have to admit how proud I'd be to have such a scientific anomaly for a son."

"Dad!"

"Could you imagine a baby that looks like you and John? My god, what an adorable little—"

"Dad, ok!" Sherlock cries, laughing still.

Clement smiles at Sherlock. "Thank you for telling me, Sherlock. I won't pry, god knows I don't want to. As for having more freedom, well, we'll build to it, ok? As long as you prove that I can trust you. Don't lie to me and definitely don't go behind my back."

Sherlock nods. "Ok, Dad."

"Anything else?" Clement asks, picking up the knife again.

"Yeah, actually. Could you un-ground Declan? He didn't know, he shouldn't have even covered for me."

"Oh, I did. He went to hang out with Duke."

"Oh. Thanks."

"But you're still grounded, at least for the weekend."

Sherlock nods. "Understandable."

"Actually," Clement peers into the pot of soup. "I've made too much for dinner. Invite John over."

Sherlock laughs and takes his phone out. "Dad, you're really bad at grounding me."

Clement shrugs. "Minor offenses call for minor punishment. I'll call when it's ready."

Sherlock hops off his stool and holds his phone to his ear.

"Plus," Clement calls as Sherlock's about to exit the kitchen. "I'd love a chance to watch you two squirm after knowing that I know about all of this."

Sherlock slowly turns back to him, his cheeks burning red and his eyes wide.

Clement just grins and goes back to his cooking.


	28. Chapter 28: Rebecca

_**A/N: Much angst in this chapter. Sorry 'bout that. Also thank you all so much for the very kind reviews last chapter. They were just the boost of confidence that I needed to write. Thank you so much!**_

* * *

On Monday, Sherlock is called to Headmaster Card's office for a private conference. All the Headmaster says is that Vince has been officially expelled, and that Perry is also planning to leave the school. Sherlock nearly jumps out of his seat with joy, and Headmaster Card lets him completely let out his excitement.

Sherlock calls Clement right after he gets out of the office, and Clement is just as happy as Sherlock. He lets Sherlock know that he can stay at that school, and that makes Sherlock all the more excited.

* * *

Weeks pass, and Sherlock doesn't really talk to Mycroft until the beginning of February. Finally, he answers Mycroft call when Mycroft sends a text first that says 'urgent'.

"Lestrade called," Mycroft says. "He needs your help."

"Why didn't he just call me?"

"I don't know, Sherlock, perhaps he wanted an excuse to talk to me."

"An excuse? So you're really not talking anymore?"

Mycroft sighs. "It's complicated."

"I'm not talking to him if you're not."

"Fine. I'll let him know that the murder he wants you to solve isn't that important. Goodbye, Sherlock."

"Wait!" Sherlock stops him.

"Yes?"

"I…I want the murder."

Sherlock can hear Mycroft smile. "Well, the victim is a twenty-two year old female. She was found under a bridge two days ago, and it's got every sign of a serial killer."

Sherlock jots down everything Mycroft tells him. She was strangled and her jewelry was missing, but it wasn't a theft gone wrong. Mycroft says the jewelry she had was very specific, pricey enough that the barman at the pub she'd been in remembered it. Mycroft adds that the barman remembered her leaving with a substantially larger man, and that the man may be the culprit.

"But they can't find the man?" Sherlock asks.

"Right."

"Alright. I'll call Lestrade."

"He said to go to the Yard right away."

"Alright," Sherlock says. "Thanks."

"Talk soon."

Sherlock hangs up and leaves immediately.

* * *

Sherlock makes the journey to the Yard alone. He's done it before, and Clement trusts him enough to make it down there.

He arrives and helps Lestrade as much as he can. Lestrade gives him the evidence: shoe samples from under the bridge, fingerprints from around the girl's neck, and a pink key that either the girl or the man dropped.

"So, you want to know where he is?" Sherlock asks after examining everything.

Lestrade nods.

"Judging by his boot print, he's probably a construction worker of some kind."

"Alright. How can you tell?"

"It's a specific type of boot. We had construction done last year, and I remember the men all had boots just like this. I asked one man where he got them, out of curiosity, if they were uniform, and he said they're not uniform, but they are recommended specifically for their job."

"Oh."

"The man doesn't make much money, you're looking for a small home."

"How do you figure?"

"Construction workers don't make much money, and he's been killing people and stealing things to sell."

"Oh."

"And the key," Sherlock picks it up. "Was it ran for DNA?"

"The girl's fingerprints were on the part you hold. We're just assuming it's her house key."

Sherlock bites his lip and examines it. "Look here," he says. "Right here, where you'd hook it to a clasp, it's all roughed up. It wouldn't be roughed up unless it was taken off the ring often, or once if it was forceful enough. It's his key, she yanked it off the ring to use to stab him."

"Oh…ok."

"Pink key, so it's not _his _key. He lives with a girlfriend, a sister, or his mother. It's doubtful he has a girlfriend, I mean he cares about people so little that he kills them for their possessions. So, a sister or a mother."

"He doesn't have any siblings."

"Well, then," Sherlock sets the key down. "He lives with his mother."

"And if he's fled? He's not there?"

"He's obviously not that bright. He'll be there."

"Right," Lestrade grabs his phone and calls for backup. When he hangs up, he turns back to Sherlock. "Thanks, Sherlock. I owe you one."

"Yes, you do," Sherlock says. "But you won't if you tell me what happened between you and my brother."

Lestrade sighs, pulling on his coat. "It's not my story to tell."

"He won't tell me. Congratulations, you're it."

Lestrade takes a deep breath. "Look, all I'm going to tell you is that he completely flipped out on me about a month ago. I thought it was just stress from moving, and his new job, but he's apparently excelling at everything and has adjusted well, so something else is really bothering him. I don't know what, but I'm giving him space."

"Why? Don't you like him anymore?"

"Of course I like him, Sherlock. A lot. But I can't force him to, in any way we could be, be with me if he doesn't want to be. I don't know if I did something or what, but he just…I don't know, Sherlock. He just snapped."

Sherlock furrows his brows.

"I've got to go. I'll call you if there's anything else."

Sherlock nods and Lestrade rushes out of the office.

Sherlock gets outside and takes his phone out to call John. It's Saturday, and John's mother is home, but Sherlock hopes he'll answer anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hey, John. How are you?"

They go on about how their day is going. Sherlock tells John all about the case while walking down the street, and before he knows it, Sherlock's a block away from his mother's office.

"I haven't seen my Mum in a few days," Sherlock says. "I think I'll pop in to say hello."

"That's nice, love."

"I'll call you when I'm home."

"Ok. I love you."

Sherlock hangs up as he enters the building and goes up to Rebecca's floor. Her secretary is in and smiles widely when Sherlock enters.

"Hello, Sherlock, how are you?"

"Hello, Sarah. I was just hoping to see my mother."

"She's not in, love. She's gone to lunch with your father."

Sherlock's face turns confused. "With my father? My father is busy with my uncle today."

"Oh," Sarah says, shuffling through her notes. "She said she had a lunch date, I just assumed she meant she was meeting your father."

"Huh," Sherlock says, still confused.

"I must have heard her wrong, love. 'Lunch date' means many things. Anyway, here's the address, it's just two blocks away. She's been gone a while, you'll probably catch her leaving."

Sherlock nods and takes the note. "Thanks, Sarah."

Sarah warmly smiles as the phone begins to ring. She answers it and Sherlock leaves.

Sherlock walks the two blocks, curious as to who his mother's lunch date was with. He figures it's a business colleague, knowing his mother has to meet with dozens of people a week.

When he gets to the restaurant, he peers into the window and spots his mother instantly. She's there with a man, as he expected, and they're talking across the table. His mother always has a smile, he's actually never seen her frown (not particularly in happiness, but because his mother knows she looks best with a smile), and she's smiling now. But this smile is different; she looks really happy.

And then he sees it. The ridiculously good looking man stands from the table and adjusts his tie, then leans over and kisses his mother. On the lips.

Sherlock's stomach turns as the man walks away to the restrooms, and Sherlock ducks out of sight when Rebecca looks around, towards where he's watching. He crawls out of view, then stands and runs away.

He wants to cry. He never expected his mother to be seeing anyone other than his father; he never thought his family would be one like many other families around him.

He doesn't know who to call. Of course he thinks of John first, John being someone who would at least kind of understand what's going through his mind since John's father did far worse to tear their family apart. But he doesn't want to bother John with his problems. Instead, he calls the only other person who would positively understand.

"Solved it?" Mycroft answers the call.

Sherlock sniffles. "Myc."

"What happened? What did Lestrade—"

"It wasn't him!" Sherlock snaps.

Mycroft takes a deep breath. "Tell me what happened."

"I…I went to see Mum at her office, and Sarah said she had a lunch date. So I went to the restaurant, and I…I saw…"

"Oh, Sherlock," Mycroft says. "Calm down, Brother. It's alright—"

"It's not alright! Mum's cheating on Dad and you tell me it's alright?!"

Mycroft sighs. "Of course it's not alright, Sherlock. But—"

"Why are you so calm?" Sherlock asks. Then, he realizes why. "You know, don't you? You've known? How long?!"

"Sher—"

"How long?!"

"I've known since I got here, but the affair's been going on longer."

"How did you find out?"

"The same way you did. I called to talk to mother, Sarah said she had a lunch date, but I knew that Dad was with you at school right at that moment. I asked if it was with a man, and Sarah said yes. I didn't know for sure, but this confirms it."

Sherlock sniffles again. "Does Dad know?"

"No. And you can't tell him."

"Why not?!"

"It's none of your business, Sherlock."

"Of course it is! I'm here, you're not! I see Dad and you don't! He deserves to know."

"Dad is an adult, Sherlock. He can figure it out."

Sherlock sniffles. "It's not fair."

"I know, Sherlock. But you can't tell him."

Sherlock huffs.

"Please, don't tell him."

"Alright."

"Thank you."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just thinks about the events of the afternoon. He remembers what Lestrade told him. "Is this why you flipped out on Lestrade?"

Mycroft doesn't reply at first, but finally he does. "Yes. I didn't react well to this, and I, as you say, 'flipped out' on him. And I regret it, but I can't take back the things I said."

"Yes, you can. Lestrade really likes you and you really like him."

"But, Sherlock, I—"

"Just take it back, please!"

"Why does it matter to you so much, Sherlock?"

"Because everybody keeps fucking up, Mycroft! John's dad, our mum, and now _you_! Nobody lasts, and I…" Sherlock's tears fall. "John and I…we…"

"You two are different, Brother. You and John really love each other, more than any love I've seen in two people. You two have always loved each other, ever since you were young boys, and nobody has ever doubted that. You and John are different."

"I don't believe it, Mycroft. How can I believe in love if Mum would rather be with someone other than Dad and you'd rather be with someone other than Lestrade?" Sherlock's breath begins to quicken.

"I wouldn't, Sherlock," Mycroft says, "I wouldn't rather be with anyone other than Lestrade. But it's difficult right now, and I said a lot of dumb things."

Sherlock's breathing only gets quicker. "Myc, I—"

"Calm down, Sherlock, you're going to hyperventilate."

"I can't breathe, Myc, I can't…my chest…"

"Sherlock, where are you? Find a bench and sit down. Slow down."

Sherlock can't slow his breathing down. His heart feels like it's going to pop out of his chest and his head feels lighter. "Myc, I—"

"Sherlock? Sherlock?!"

Everything goes black and Sherlock's body slumps to the ground.

* * *

He wakes up in the hospital. An oxygen tube is hooked to his nose and his chest hurts.

"Hey, baby."

Sherlock blinks to John's voice and sees John smiling back at him. All previous feelings of uneasiness about John fly out the window when Sherlock realizes that John is the one there when he wakes up. Clement isn't even in the room.

"How are you feeling?"

Sherlock licks his dry lips and John presses a straw to his mouth. Hydrated, he feels better. He clears his throat. "Better. What happened?"

"Panic attack, that's what Mycroft said. You were on the phone with him. Do you remember that?"

Sherlock nods.

"What were you talking about?"

Sherlock glances at the door to make sure Clement isn't returning right then. The coast is clear, so he tells John that he saw his mother kiss another man.

John's eyes grow wide. "Wow, babe. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Sherlock weakly says. "Where's my dad?"

"He stepped out to talk to Mycroft."

Sherlock nods.

John kisses Sherlock lightly, and right then Clement enters the room.

"He's awake," Clement says into his phone. "Yeah, talk later. Love you. Goodbye."

Sherlock watches him walk around the bed. "Who was that?"

"Myc. He's worried about you. Has this been happening a lot, son?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "Just today."

Clement nods. "What happened?"

Sherlock remembers Mycroft telling him not to tell Clement, so he lies. "I got a bit too worked up about a case. That's all."

Clement frowns and pushes the hair out of Sherlock's eyes. "Let's just stay off murders for a few weeks then, yeah?"

Sherlock nods.

Clement kisses his forehead, then his phone begins to ring. "It's your Mum," he says, then leaves the room again.

"You're not going to tell him?" John asks.

Sherlock shakes his head. "Mycroft said not to."

"Why?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Myc said it's none of my business."

"Of course it is. You're their kid."

"I know, but Myc said not to."

John nods. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Thanks."

John kisses his cheek again, then Clement returns.

"Your mum wants to have dinner tonight."

Sherlock frowns. "All of us?"

"No, just the two of you."

Sherlock frowns deeper.

"What's wrong?" Clement asks.

"Nothing, I…" Sherlock pauses. "I wanted to hang out with John."

Clement glances at John. "You can tomorrow, alright?"

Sherlock nods.

* * *

Sherlock gets home and changes for his dinner with Rebecca. He gets on his best suit, knowing his mum is going to take him somewhere nice, then goes downstairs to wait.

"Mum's upstairs," Clement says, finding Sherlock on the sofa. "This is nice, right? Date night with mummy."

Sherlock shrugs.

"You two used to go out all the time when you were young. Not as much as she took Mycroft out, but you and I would have our special days. Remember?"

Sherlock nods.

Clement ruffles his hair.

Rebecca descends the stairs minutes later. Clement meets her and takes her hand.

"You look amazing, my love," Clement says, kissing her.

Sherlock's stomach turns. His dad is still so in love with his mother, and he hates it.

"Thank you, Clement," Rebecca says. "We'll be back later. Come along, darling. We've got reservations."

Sherlock gets off the sofa and follows her out.

They silently ride to the restaurant, not talking in the back of the cab. They get into the restaurant without saying anything, and Rebecca is the first to talk.

"Are you upset with me, then?" she asks with a knowing tone.

Sherlock knows she knows that he knows about her affair. He figures Sarah told her that Sherlock stopped by, and that Sarah said she directed him to the restaurant. His mother isn't stupid.

"Yes," he says.

"That's a shame," Rebecca says. "Are you going to tell your father?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I care, darling."

"Then why are you cheating on my dad?"

Rebecca sighs, as if bothered. "I don't know why, Sherlock."

"If you're unhappy, just leave him."

"I'm not unhappy. I love your father very much."

"Then why are you doing this?!"

A few people from the tables around them glance over. Rebecca calmly takes a sip of her wine. Sherlock ignores the people and waits for an answer.

"I'm doing this because I want to, Sherlock," Rebecca says.

"That's the most selfish thing I've ever heard."

Rebecca just looks at him.

"He doesn't deserve to live with you cheating on him."

"You're right, Sherlock," she says.

"Tell him, or I will."

Rebecca nods. "If you want to, fine."

"Fine. I will."

Rebecca nods again.

Their meal continues in silence. Rebecca doesn't speak, so Sherlock doesn't. He just thinks about what to tell his father.

Rebecca takes him home and actually stays there. Sherlock assumes she's blocking him from telling Clement, but that's fine. He knows it's just giving him more time to think of what to tell his dad.

Mycroft calls before he falls asleep.

"How was dinner with Mum?" he asks.

"It was pointless. She told me not to tell Dad, I told her I'm going to anyway."

Mycroft sighs. "Are you sure about that?"

"He deserves to know."

"I know."

"So, yes, I'm sure."

"Alright, Brother."

"Have you talked to Lestrade?"

"Yes. He told me you closed the case."

"In minutes," Sherlock adds.

Mycroft chuckles.

"Did you talk about…anything else?"

"If you must know, yes, we did."

"And?"

"And I explained everything. I told him there's no excuse for what I said, but that I was really worked up about all of this. And I apologized."

"Good. What else?"

"That's all."

"That's all?! You're not together now?!"

"Of course not, Sherlock. We aren't _together_."

"Long distance relationship! Come on, Myc!"

Mycroft sighs. "We'll see, Sherlock. Anyway, I'm planning a trip to visit you in a few weeks. Maybe I'll see him while I'm there."

"You are? When?"

"The weekend of Valentine's Day. I'll be flying in that evening."

"Perfect, Myc! That's perfect!"

"Is it?"

"Fly in and go to see him on Valentine's Day, Myc! It's brilliant!"

Mycroft chuckles. "Sherlock, I—"

"Surprise him! Show up at his front door and surprise him!"

"Do you really think I should?"

"Yes!"

"Ok," Mycroft says. "I will."

"Perfect. He'll love it."

"Hopefully."

"He will. Trust me."

"Ok. I'll trust you. Now, you go to bed. You had a long day."

"I'm about to. Tomorrow I'm telling Dad."

"I don't think you should, Sherlock."

"I need to. Dad doesn't deserve this."

"Alright. Call me after, then."

"I will."

"Goodnight, Sherlock. Sleep well."

"Night, Myc."

Sherlock hangs up and plugs his phone in at his desk, then goes to bed and falls into a very fitful sleep.


	29. Chapter 29: Slumber Party

_**A/N : Yes, there was a bit of a cliffhanger there at the end of last chapter. Hope you enjoy. Well, not that what's happening is particularly enjoyable, but soon! Some will be resolved. Thanks for reading, please review! Happy New Year!**_

_**AND have fun watching the new Sherlock episode, for I won't be posting another chapter until after it airs. Exciting, right! Anyway, have fun!**_

_**EDIT: I uploaded the non-edited version yesterday. This is the edited version. **_

_**Warning for sex at the end. **_

* * *

A week passes and Sherlock doesn't get to talk to Clement alone. Rebecca sticks around all week, Sherlock assumes it's to keep him from telling Clement, and that really bothers him. Not only is Clement doing everything his mother asks, waiting on her hand and foot, but she slips out for hour long telephone conversations and he doesn't know who she's talking to.

"I kind of agree with Mycroft," John says on Friday, as they sit on the couch watching Spider-Man. "It's not really…it's not…" John sighs. "It's not your burden to drop onto your dad."

"But he deserves to know," Sherlock says.

"I know, I know."

"If you saw Harvey cheating on Lily, would you tell her?"

"Well, I—"

"You would. I know you would. You care that much about Lily. I care that much about my dad, actually more."

"Ok, babe."

Sherlock just looks back at the television and tries to figure out what's going on. He's seen this movie a million times by now, so it doesn't take long to catch up.

"I don't know why you insist on watching this movie so much," Sherlock tells him.

"I like it," John says wit h a smile. He reaches over and grabs a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl on Sherlock's lap.

"Hmm," Sherlock sounds. He watches as Spider-Man lowers himself down to the height of Mary Jane, their mouths lined up perfectly. Mary Jane takes hold of his head, then kisses Spider-Man passionately. It's raining, the kiss is sweet, and Sherlock knows most people think it's romantic. But Sherlock just thinks it's pointless because Spider-Man's blood is flooding to his head, and he's probably awfully uncomfortable.

Sherlock remembers how John used to hang upside down on the monkey bars all the time when they were in primary school. Really, John would hang on and climb everything, and Sherlock knows he did that to feel like Spider-Man. He watches Spider-Man kiss Mary Jane upside down and thinks of a specific time that John was hanging upside down.

They were eight, nearly nine, and Sherlock was sitting below a tree in the park, reading while John climbed the tree. Clement was away talking to another kid's dad.

"_Psst_," John whispered, his head hanging next to Sherlock's. He giggled.

Sherlock tore his eyes away from his book and blinked his gaze to John. His eyes adjusted to the very bright blue eyes staring back at him.

"_Have you seen Spider-Man?_" John asked, still giggling.

Sherlock glared at him, annoyed that John would bother him to ask such a question. "_No. Why?_"

John just giggled and hoisted himself up onto the branch again. After that, he ran away to play football with Brady. Sherlock remembers feeling angry with John then, but he pushed it aside to finish reading.

Now, watching Spider-Man and Mary Jane kiss while they're in similar positions to how young John and he were then, he realizes what John was getting at. John wanted to kiss him, even then. He smiles.

"I'll be right back," Sherlock says, quickly standing from the sofa.

He goes to the kitchen to get a drink of water, then returns to John. John's sitting against the back of the sofa, so Sherlock can stand behind him. He goes over and places his hands on John's head, pulling John's head back to look at him.

"Hey," John says, smiling wide.

Sherlock doesn't respond, he just leans over and kisses John, just like Mary Jane does to Spider-Man. His tongue swirls around John's and the angle isn't as awkward as he thought it'd be. Plus, nobody's blood is rushing to their head. He strokes John's soft hair and eventually digs his fingers into the hair at the back of John's head.

Eventually, they need to breathe, so he lets John go and breaths against his lips.

"Wow," John mutters. He squirms on the sofa.

Sherlock grins and steps around to sit next to John. John tries to kiss him again, but Sherlock doesn't let him.

"My dad's home," Sherlock whispers.

John pouts. "It's been, what, a month since you talked to your dad about us?"

"Three weeks," Sherlock corrects.

"We should ask him if you can spend the night with me," John says.

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "Hmm," he sighs. "Maybe…"

"The worst he could say is no," John adds.

Sherlock bites his lip. "Okay. Will your mum be there tonight?"

John nods. "Actually, yes. She gets off work at ten and goes back at nine tomorrow morning."

Sherlock nods in understanding. "I'll go ask."

He kisses John once, then takes off to find Clement.

* * *

Clement's in the den, where he usually is. Sherlock steps in quietly and waits for Clement to get off the phone.

Finally, he does. "What's up, son?"

Sherlock bites his lip. "Listen, Dad, I…John and I have been really responsible the past few weeks. I hope we've earned your trust, and I'm just wondering if…"

"Spit it out, Sherlock."

"I'm wondering if I could, maybe, spend the night at John's tonight. With him."

Clement purses his lips and leans forward in his chair. He folds his hands on his desk in front of him, and Sherlock knows it's his 'serious-discussion' pose.

"Son, you have earned my trust, so far. You two haven't gone behind my back or lied about anything, and for that I thank you. So, yes, son, I think you two can be allowed to spend the night together for the night."

Sherlock smiles widely. "Really?!"

"Under one condition," Clement adds. "I talk to Dawn about it."

Sherlock frowns. "Dad, I'm not ten! We're not having a slumber party!"

"I know, son. But I want to make sure Dawn is there."

"John says she gets off of work at ten tonight. Please, Dad. Don't call her."

Clement taps his chin in thought. After many long seconds, he says, "Ok, Sherlock. I trust you."

Sherlock smiles again. "Thank you, Dad!" He rushes around the desk to hug Clement tight.

He rushes out of the room and back to John. John takes his wide smile as a yes, and they attack each other with a hard hug on the sofa.

* * *

They go to John's after dinner. There's still three hours until Dawn returns home, so the boys spread out on the sofa to cuddle.

"What do you want to do until bed?" John asks, kissing Sherlock's cheek.

"Well," Sherlock answers. "We could have sex as much as we can before your mum gets home..."

John hums. "That has my vote."

"You didn't let me give you the second option."

"Is the second option better than having sex?"

"Exponentially," Sherlock confidently says.

John lifts his head to look at Sherlock. He's got a curious grin, and he kisses Sherlock's nose. "Ok, what's the second option then?"

"There's a very fascinating bee documentary on television this evening. It starts in half an hour, and-"

"You think watching a bee documentary is better than having sex with me?"

"A _fascinating_ bee documentary, John."

John rolls his eyes.

Sherlock smiles and kisses John slowly. "If you let me watch the hour long documentary," Sherlock says, "I'll do anything you want when we go to bed."

"Hmm," John sounds. "Anything?"

Sherlock happily nods.

"Fine," John says, "I've already got an idea."

Sherlock grins. "Oh? Tell me about it."

"Mmm," John purrs, kissing Sherlock's throat. "My math homework."

Sherlock pulls away quickly. "John!" he whines.

"I'm kidding!" John laughs.

Sherlock chuckles, relieved, and kisses John again.

* * *

They relax on the sofa for half an hour more until the documentary starts. John gets his math homework out and works on it while Sherlock is transfixed on the television. John finishes his homework at the same time the documentary ends, so they get back on the sofa to cuddle.

"You know," John says. "One day, we'll probably be living together, and we're never going to get anything done."

Sherlock cracks a smile, pleased that John thinks (_knows_) they're going to be together for a very long time. "How so?"

"We're just going to end up cuddling. I'll be like, 'I've got to pop out to the shop for a second,' and you'll be like, 'Hurry back so we can resume cuddling!'."

Sherlock laughs. "Oh, I won't be the one shopping?"

John snorts. "Of course not."

Sherlock shrugs. He kisses the top of John's head.

They're silent for long minutes. Sherlock thinks about how their adult life would probably involve them watching Spider-Man often, and he wonders if John remembers the incident of when they were eight.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember," he says. "When we were about eight and my dad took us to the park? And I was reading under a tree, and you hung upside down on a branch to bug me."

"Mmm..."

"And," Sherlock continues. "You asked if I'd ever seen Spiderman?"

John doesn't say anything right away. They're silent, and Sherlock knows John is trying to remember. Finally, he gasps.

"Yeah," John says, "I remember that."

"What were you getting at? Did you want to kiss me then?"

John lifts his head and looks at Sherlock. "Yeah, I did. I had it all worked out in my head."

"Oh?"

"Had you said yes, I would have said, 'Remember that part where Spider-Man is hanging upside down to kiss Mary Jane?' and then I would have kissed you."

"Why?" Sherlock curiously asks. "Did you like me?"

John shrugs. "I don't know, I don't think I knew what liking anyone meant. But I just wanted to know. I'd seen my mum kiss my dad, I saw Harry kiss a boy at the park, and I saw your mum kiss your dad. And I wanted to see what it was like to kiss someone."

"So...you wanted to kiss a boy?"

John shrugs. "I guess so, yeah."

"And that boy was me?"

John nods.

"Why not Brady?"

John shrugs. "Your lips looked soft and kissable."

Sherlock's lips twitch into a small smile. "Looked?"

"Yeah, looked. When I was eight and innocent, your lips looked soft and kissable."

"And now?"

"Now I'm seventeen and pretty much turned on every time I'm near you, so your lips look lickable, suckable, biteable, and fuckable."

Sherlock's heart spikes up and he can't help but lick his lips. John watches his tongue and opens his own mouth.

"Kiss me, John," Sherlock begs.

"Gladly," John mutters, climbing up to be lined up with Sherlock's face.

He doesn't kiss Sherlock sweetly, he starts by biting Sherlock's bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. Then, he dives in and kisses Sherlock so hard that their teeth clank together. Sherlock clutches at his back and moans from the back of his throat.

Unfortunately, they see headlights enter John's driveway. They break apart quickly and turn the television on.

"My mum's home early," John says, flipping through channels.

"Apparently," Sherlock sarcastically says.

John elbows him in the ribs as Dawn enters the house.

"Hello, boys!" she cheerily says. She sounds tired, though.

"Hi mum," John greets. "How was work?"

"Tiring," she says, going to him.

"Mum, uhm, Clement said Sherlock could spend the night, if that's ok with you."

Dawn pauses as she's about to kiss John. She looks uneasy a second, then she relaxes. "I'm far too tired to argue, love," she says, kissing John's cheek. She kisses Sherlock too, and John can tell she really is exhausted. "You're old enough anyway, and you've been having sleepovers for years!"

John scowls, wanting to tell his mother that it's not a _sleepover_.

"Did you boys eat?"

John nods and follows Dawn into the kitchen. "Clement sent leftovers," he says, directing his mother to the microwave.

"What a thoughtful man your father is, Sherlock."

Sherlock nods.

Dawn goes to bed after she eats dinner, so once she's gone, the boys rush upstairs to John's room. They're both giddy and excited, and John tickles Sherlock between kisses.

"If this goes on, I'm not staying over again," Sherlock says.

John laughs. "I'm sorry! I'm just excited!"

Sherlock smiles and kisses him again, then John digs his fingers into Sherlock's side. Sherlock jerks away laughing, and John shoves him over onto the bed.

He grins in Sherlock's face and reaches for Sherlock's belt. "So? Whatever I want?"

Sherlock lets John undress him and completely relaxes against the bed. "Whatever."

"Hmm," John sounds, thoughtfully. He kisses Sherlock lightly while unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt. "I think I'd quite like your cock in me again."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "We've done it that way three times now. You don't want to try it the other way around?"

John shakes his head. "When I get tired of being bottom."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know; what will you be doing in 2030?"

Sherlock laughs. "Taking it up the arse for the first time, apparently."

John laughs with him. "In time, alright, love? For now I want it like this."

Sherlock nods. "Ok, John."

"I want to try a different position, though."

Sherlock watches John sit up to get his own clothes off. "Oh?"

"Yeah," John kisses his stomach and pulls his own t-shirt off. "I wanna be on top."

Sherlock pulls at his shoulder. "Well, get up here, then."

They adjust until they're fully on John's bed and Sherlock reclines on his pillows. John climbs on top of him with the lube and gets himself ready.

"I want to do it," Sherlock whines.

"Shut up," John says, kissing Sherlock.

Finally, John claims he's ready, so he covers Sherlock with lube and lines up. He's still leaned forward kissing Sherlock, and Sherlock holds his hip.

Sherlock doesn't move while John sinks down. It's tight, more tight than it has been in the past, and John isn't making any noise.

"John, stop—" Sherlock says.

John pauses.

"Are you ok?"

John sighs as if he'd been holding his breath. "It…it hurts…I don't—"

"You're not ready," Sherlock softly says. "Here, let me."

John tries to stop him when Sherlock turns him over, but he doesn't succeed.

"Let me," Sherlock says, "Then we can get back into a position you want."

John nods. Sherlock kisses him as he gets lube onto his fingers, then presses them into John. John moans.

"Feel good, babe?" Sherlock asks.

John nods.

Sherlock mouths at John's neck and moans in his ear, loving the feeling of John on his hand. He sucks at the specific part on John's neck and John thrusts his hips up. Sherlock sucks harder and stretches John more, and finally pulls his fingers away.

"You're ready, love," Sherlock says, getting a leg between John's to get in position.

John heaves Sherlock onto his back, and Sherlock falls with an 'umph'. He catches John when he jumps and John leans down to kiss him.

John reaches around to line Sherlock up again, and Sherlock easily sinks down this time.

"Oh god, yes," Sherlock says, gripping John tight.

John groans in response and to rock above Sherlock. He moans with each thrust and Sherlock hardly moves.

"That's perfect," John whispers. "So good…"

Sherlock hums in agreement and pulls John down to kiss him again.

After a few thrusts, Sherlock lifts John's hips slightly to start to thrust for himself. "Touch yourself," Sherlock says.

John gets up more on his knees and holds himself up by a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock rubs his arm and hip, and John reaches between them to touch himself.

"Oh, Sherlock," John moans, his hand flying over his cock.

A second later, John groans loudly as he comes against Sherlock's stomach. Sherlock thrusts up hard, coming deep inside John's still pulsing body.

Finally, John relaxes, and slumps on top of Sherlock. Sherlock hugs him tight and kisses his head.

"You ok?" Sherlock asks.

John nods. "Perfect."

Sherlock kisses his head again, then falls against the pillow, completely content with John on top of him.

They finally move to clean up, then return back to the bed. Sherlock holds John close and strokes his side.

"You're right," Sherlock mutters.

"Hmm? Right about what?"

"We probably will be spending a lot of time cuddling in the future."

John chuckles. "I think that'll be true."

Sherlock kisses his back. "I love you, John."

"I love you too, Sherlock." John lifts Sherlock's hand to kiss it, then holds it close to his chest.

They fall asleep shortly after that, both extremely happy together.


	30. Chapter 30: Ashley

"That a new case?" Duke asks as John and Sherlock approach him and Declan on Monday morning.

"Hmm? Yeah," Sherlock says. "Some girl lost her dog."

"Who?" Duke asks.

"Uhm...Ashley Damien."

Declan grabs the paper. "Let me see," he mutters. "Yeah...Ashley Damien isn't a girl."

Sherlock, John, and Duke look confused. "Huh?"

"Ashley Damien's that posh bloke who just moved to this school."

"Oh, yeah!" Duke cries. "I heard he got kicked out of every private school in the country."

"I heard he tried to go to uni last year and they wouldn't let him in," Declan says. "Whatever is true, he definitely hates when you say he has a girl name."

John snorts. "Wouldn't you?"

"Anyway," Declan continues, "That guy's a jerk. He pretends to be charming, but I can tell he's not. He's from New York, and apparently that matters to people," Declan pouts. "I lived in New York, I was born there..."

The others watch him, even Sherlock.

Duke makes his voice higher, like a girl. "It matters to me, Declan," he says, rubbing Declan's shoulder.

"You don't have to make a girl voice if you'd be in to me anyway."

"But then I got to know you..." Duke jokes.

Declan huffs. "Not helping."

"What's wrong with you?" John asks. "New kid taking your new kid charm?"

Declan sighs. "Ellery's already fallen to Ashley's charm."

The others try not to laugh.

"Dude, you've been taking her out for two weeks and you still haven't kissed her," Duke says. "Maybe she doesn't like you as much as you think she does."

"She does!" Declan cries, then turns around to leave.

Duke and John laugh. Sherlock ignores them. John begins to walk away and Duke follows, but John doesn't get far before he realizes Sherlock isn't following.

"Coming?" John calls to him.

Sherlock takes his phone out. "Be right there," he says, typing away.

John knows he's texting Ashley, so he leaves Sherlock alone and walks to class with Duke.

* * *

Ashley agrees to meet Sherlock during lunch, back in the hidden desk in the library. Sherlock drags John back there as soon as they're let out for lunch, so they wait a few minutes for Ashley to arrive.

Finally, he arrives, and Sherlock's mouth drops open when he sees Ashley. Ashley's tall; since he's American, he's got a few inches on Sherlock. In addition, Ashley's got long blonde hair that goes to his eyes, bright green eyes underneath the mane, and beautiful bronze skin. He's just gorgeous, and Sherlock notices.

John elbows him.

"What?" Sherlock snaps.

John rolls his eyes.

Ashley politely smiles, revealing his straight, white teeth and deep dimples. Sherlock swoons.

Ashley clears his throat. "Hello, Sherlock Holmes. I'm Ashley Damien."

Sherlock shakes the offered hand. "This is John, my...uh..."

John glares at Sherlock as he reaches to shake Ashley's hand. "Boyfriend," he says. He hardly ever introduces himself as Sherlock's boyfriend, but he felt the need to then.

Ashley smiles, then nods to the girl next to him. "This is Brendan Butler."

"Oh, your girlfriend?" John asks, shaking her hand.

"No," Ashley says.

Brendan's gaze drops and she slightly frowns.

John looks at Sherlock and he can tell Sherlock is literally biting his tongue to not say something about their names.

"Anyway!" John starts, distracting Sherlock. "Please, sit."

Ashley sits down across from Sherlock, and John and Brendan stand behind them. Sherlock starts with the questions.

"Someone's taken your dog?"

Ashley nods. "My mom says to just let her go, but she's been with me for ten years. Sentiment, ya know?"

Sherlock nods. "What kind of dog is she?"

"A little Shih Tzu," Ashley gets his phone out to show Sherlock a photo. "She's brown. Her name is Yankee-"

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, more of a glare than a question.

Ashley raises his arms. "I'm from New York."

Sherlock nods. "She was taken from your house?"

"No, from the park. I have a daily dog-walker, Yankee got away and was snatched."

"Any idea of who could have taken her?"

"The dog-walker said it's a man, or a boy. Definitely male."

"Do you have problems with anyone?"

Ashley smirks. "I'll send you a list."

Sherlock nods and stands. "We'll be in touch."

"One more thing," Ashley stops him. "I'm getting ransoms."

Sherlock furrows his brows and sits.

Ashley takes a wad of notes out of the front breast pocket of his suit jacket and places them on the table. "There's four, they come every three days. I've gotten three at home and one at school."

Sherlock unfolds the papers and reads them. They're pen written notes, so that indicates they're from someone young, an amateur. They're demanding money for the dog, low prices like a hundred or two hundred pounds, but the most is five. They don't threaten the dog with death, which is a good sign, but that still doesn't narrow down the culprit.

"You said you received one at school?" Sherlock asks. "In your locker or was it delivered?"

"Delivered. I didn't have a locker yet. Some little first year gave it to me during gym."

Sherlock folds the notes up and shoves them in his coat pocket. "Let me know the next time there's a note."

Ashley nods.

"And let us know if you can think of anyone who would be doing this," John says, speaking up for the first time.

Ashley nods again.

Sherlock looks at him, and right then Ashley whips his hair out of his eyes. Sherlock opens his mouth to talk, but no noise comes out. Ashley stands and offers a hand to shake again.

John shakes his hand because Sherlock is too flustered, but then Sherlock begins to blurt things to show he's not dazed or dumb. "Did you have a good holiday in Australia? Enjoying your new Mustang? What about your little sister? She enjoying her Husky?"

Ashley smiles a genuine smile. "Boy, you are as good as they say."

"Wasn't hard. You're tan, and your hair is bleached from the sun. You were there a while. I can tell you got a Mustang for Christmas because I can see the remote control starter in your pocket. Plus, I noticed it in the parking lot this morning. I know you have a little sister because you have remnants of nail polish on your fingernails. It was painted on there a while ago, and you probably forgot to take it off. Nice shade though, fits your skin tone. As for her new Husky, I know about that because the photo you showed me of Yankee, the Husky in the background has a pink bow. A little girl's dog, then. Cute, really."

Ashley smiles wider and wider at each deduction. "Brilliant."

Sherlock cracks a smile. "You really think so?"

John clears his throat, as if reminding Sherlock that he's _still there_.

Sherlock finally tears his eyes away from the tall, handsome boy. "Oh," he mutters.

John just grumbles and leaves them, making his way through the library.

Ashley chuckles, Brendan scowls, and Sherlock just turns bright red.

"I'll be in touch," Ashley says, patting Sherlock's shoulder, then following John.

* * *

They find Declan in the cafeteria with Ellery, so they sit with him instead of Brady.

"How'd it go?" Declan asks.

"Perfectly well," Sherlock says. "Very interesting."

Declan looks at John for more information.

"It went…" John practically growls, "Fine."

Declan stares at him.

Sherlock sighs. "So he's a little handsome? I'm only human!"

"I don't think you blinked the entire time!"

"What's he got that we don't?!" Declan cries, his voice high pitched and anxious.

Ellery chuckles. "Oh, don't—"

"Well, first of all, he's got about nine extra inches," Sherlock says.

Declan's jaw drops. "I am 5'9!" he says, offended.

"And he's 6'3!"

John scowls.

Declan looks at Ellery. "Ok, and you? What does he bring to the table that I don't?"

Ellery laughs. "Nothing, Declan," she reaches across the table and takes his hand. "I'm sitting here with you, aren't I?"

Declan takes a deep breath. "Yeah, alright."

Sherlock watches them, then looks at John. "You too, John. You, me, here."

John glares at him. "Oh yes, your words hit the spot, Sherlock."

Sherlock grins. "Well, need I remind you of this weekend when—"

"Dude!" Declan cries. "Not in front of the lady."

Sherlock chuckles and sits back in his chair.

"Besides," Declan adds, "I don't need to hear it again."

John grows bright red. "I told you it was too loud!"

"What, are you blaming me?!"

"You—"

"Guys!" Declan cries. "Shut up! "

Ellery takes a puff of her inhaler. Declan rubs her hand with his thumb.

"You ok?" he asks her.

Ellery nods.

Sherlock and John look at each other after watching Ellery and Declan's sweet moment. Sherlock cracks a smile, which makes John smile.

"But you have to admit," Sherlock says, "That sound I made John make—"

Ellery's eyes grow wide and she shakes her inhaler.

"Shut up!" Declan yells.

Sherlock laughs.

* * *

"So, have you thought any more about Ashley's case?" John asks as they walk home.

Sherlock nods. "I think it's someone at school. I texted him a bit during last period, and—"

John looks at him. "Oh, you did?"

Sherlock glances at him. "I…yes…"

John doesn't say anything, he just silently marches on.

"What?!" Sherlock cries.

"Nothing, nothing!"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and continues. "Anyway, Ashley said he's lived in the city a while, but he obviously just started this school. It's true that he's been kicked out of every private school in the country, which is a vast exaggeration, obviously, and this is his first public school."

"Okay…"

"Even though our school is a quite 'rich' public school, Ashley is the first real wealthy kid we've had. Someone must've found out he has a dog and found that as opportunity to exploit a few pounds."

John nods.

"Someone at school. A male. Someone lower class than the rest of us. And someone who knows him; he said he didn't mention to anyone that he has a dog."

John nods again.

"Are you paying attention to me?"

John nods.

"What did I just say?"

"That you texted him during last period."

Sherlock groans and throws his arms in the air. "Do you want me to drop the case, then? Is that what you want?"

John stops on the sidewalk. "No," he sighs. "I'm sorry. I've just...I've never felt threatened before."

"Threatened? What do you mean?"

"You like him! That…that hurts me, Sherlock!"

"I don't like him! I…" Sherlock sighs. "He's attractive. He's interesting. He's…"

"Tall, rich, hot, American…" John mutters. "Everything I'm not."

Sherlock frowns. "That's not what I meant."

John rubs his face. "Look, I'm…I have a headache. I'm just going to go home."

Sherlock grabs his sleeve before John can turn around. "If you try to walk away, I will tackle you to the ground and repeat this over and over until you understand. You're the smartest person I know, so I doubt that would take long."

John looks into his eyes.

"I. Love. _You, _John Watson. You. Only you. Only ever you. Only you since we were young. And only you…hopefully until I die. That guy? He means absolutely nothing. You mean everything." Sherlock takes John's head in his hands. "Alright?"

John slowly nods. "Alright."

"He wouldn't even matter to me if I didn't have you."

John nods.

Sherlock slouches to be the same height as John. He rubs his nose against John's and looks into his eyes. "I love you," he whispers against John's lips.

John brushes his lips against Sherlock's. "I love you."

Sherlock slowly, impossibly slowly, licks a hot stripe up John's lips. "Is your house empty?"

John reaches forward to capture Sherlock's lips, but stops himself. "We've had sex every day since Friday."

"That's only three times," Sherlock tells him. "I think our dicks can handle it."

John huffs when Sherlock says that last part.

"So?"

John pulls back, grabs Sherlock's hand, and drags Sherlock to his house.

* * *

Fifteen later, John is lying unsatisfied on Sherlock's flat stomach while Sherlock begins to text Ashley.

"I realized something," Sherlock says, again. By way of apology. Again.

"I know, I know," John says.

"I just couldn't finish with this thought on my brain."

"I know," John repeats. "I am satisfied, though, that you lost your erection when you thought of Ashley."

Sherlock chuckles.

John kisses his stomach. "Maybe we'll just have to give Declan another earful in a bit."

Sherlock laughs, but he's quickly cut off and he quickly sits up. "Hello?" he answers.

John straddles his hips and holds his head.

"Yeah, _Dad_," Sherlock says to his phone, emphasizing to John who he's talking to.

John doesn't pay any attention, he just leans down to lick Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock's jaw drops and he tries his best to hold back a moan. His voice squeaks as he says, "We had to stop at John's to get something."

John bites his collarbone.

"A book," Sherlock says too excitedly.

John licks up his throat to his jaw.

"Dad, listen, I'm working a case for a boy named Ashley. He just sent me an address for his dog-walker. John and I are going over there."

John hears Clement tell Sherlock to be careful as he shoves his tongue into Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock works his mouth away. "Ok, Dad. Yeah, bye!" He tosses his phone to the floor and grabs John, turning him and pushing him onto his back on the bed.

"What about the dog-walker?" John asks as Sherlock pulls his pants down.

"The dog will still be missing tomorrow," Sherlock says, kissing down John's skin. "This is far more important."

John grins, but it's quickly lost in a moan when Sherlock swallows his cock.

In no time, John's finally satisfied and Sherlock's satisfying himself over John's still pulsing cock. Sherlock comes with a deep groan and John's name on his lips.

Sherlock sits back on his heels once his orgasm ends. He pants and catches his breath. "How was that?"

John can't even talk or move, he just gives Sherlock a thumbs up.

Sherlock grins and falls down onto the bed.

* * *

Sherlock goes home a while later, spending more time with John than he usually would because he told his dad he'd be gone long. When he walks in, Clement and Declan are sitting at the kitchen island having dinner.

"Hello, love!" Clement cries as Sherlock enters the room. "I made macaroni and cheese for dinner!"

Sherlock smiles widely and takes an offered bowl. "Thanks!"

"Where's John?"

"He had to go home," Sherlock tells him. "His mum called."

Clement nods in understanding. "Well, you'll have some leftover, then."

Sherlock smiles and sits next to Declan, then digs in to his food.

Clement leaves them a minute later to make a phone call. When he leaves, Declan looks over to examine Sherlock.

"You didn't go visit any dog-walker!"

Sherlock glares at him. "How would you know?"

"You haven't got any dog hair on you."

"Maybe—"

"Dog-walkers carry dog hair!"

Sherlock scowls. "Fine."

Declan grins triumphantly.

"And what did you and Ellery do this afternoon, hmm?" Sherlock questions. "Sat on the sofa and _talked _about _books _and other boring things?"

"Hey!" Declan points a fork at him. "We are two very interesting people. And far too mature to jump each other every chance we get!"

"Yes, well—"

"Save it," Declan says. "And just so you know, while you were gone your dad went on about how responsible you are and how much he trusts you. Way to prove it, cousin."

Sherlock scowls at him. "Why are you so…" Sherlock pauses to think of a word. "…_grouchy_ today?"

Declan takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. "It's driving me crazy that Ellery won't let me near her. I respect her, I don't even want to have sex with her, but a bloody kiss would be nice."

"Kisses are nice—"

Declan groans. "Oh, shut up. Maybe she _doesn't _like me, just like Duke said."

Sherlock watches him lay his head on the island in agony. "Do you know that John and I knew each other for almost a decade before we kissed?"

"Well, yeah—"

"He liked me the whole time. Well, maybe not the _whole _time, but most of the time. And I liked him. It's just that we were young, scared, we didn't know how to handle our emotions."

"So?"

"So? You're the first person in the entire school to pay any attention to Ellery. You're her first _friend, _let alone the first boy she's somewhat dating. She's practically a child when it comes to this stuff."

Declan sighs and nods. "Yeah, I know that."

"She likes you. She's just scared."

Declan nods. "Thanks, Sherlock."

"You're welcome."

Declan hops off the stool and carries his bowl to the sink. "Your dad made this to show you how proud of you he is for whatever. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention."

Sherlock nods. "Thanks."

Declan waves once, then leaves the kitchen.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and thinks about now is as good a time as ever to tell Clement about his mother. His stomach turns, and he's nervous, but he knows deep down that his father _needs _to know.

He gets up and goes to the den, where Clement is just hanging up the phone.

"Dad, I need to talk to you."

Clement watches him enter the room, and his face turns worried. "What is it, son? Are you alright?"

"It's not about me," Sherlock says. "Well, I guess…it…it could be…but…it's about you."

"About me?"

"And about Mum."

Clement sits back in his chair. "I'm listening."

* * *

**_A/N: Cliffhanger! Sorry! New chapter up soon. Hope you liked this one! Please review! _**

**_AND what did everyone think of _****The Empty Hearse? ****_I loved it! _**


	31. Chapter 31: Clement

**_A/N: Short chapter but I can tell you're all reeeeally upset about the cliffhanger. Sorry 'bout that, won't happen again! Hope you enjoy. Please review._**

* * *

Sherlock slowly sits on the chair across from Clement. He shifts uneasily, trying to think of the words he needs, and the silence is long.

"Well?" Clement asks.

Sherlock licks his lips. "Dad, I'm going to come right out with it. Mum is…Mum's…she's…she's got—"

"She's having an affair, isn't she?" Clement plainly asks.

Sherlock looks up and into Clement's eyes. He slightly nods.

Clement sighs and rests his elbows on his desk. He hangs his head and runs his hands through his hair. "Fuck…" he mutters.

Sherlock's rarely ever heard his father curse, Clement only ever curses when he's _that _angry or _that _upset. Sherlock watches him, unsure of what to say.

"Dad?" Sherlock quietly asks.

Clement doesn't lift his head. "I should've expected this. I should've…" he shakes his head. "I…"

"It's not your fault, Dad," Sherlock whispers.

Clement lifts his head. "Shouldn't I be telling you that?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"Who else knows?"

Sherlock bites his lip, knowing his father wants the least bit of humiliation as possible.

"Does Mycroft know?" Clement asks.

Sherlock slowly nods.

Clement rubs his face again. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

Clement shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry that you are the one who had to tell me. I shouldn't have been so blind."

Sherlock doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He squirms uncomfortably in his chair and wants to change the subject, but this particular subject will never go away.

Clement roughly runs his hands through his hair and stands. He looks angry and hurt, not a look Sherlock loves on his father. Clement proves his emotion by slapping the pen holder off of his desk with a loud yell. Sherlock jumps in shock, and his heart beats quickly.

"Shit," Clement whispers, bending to clean up the mess he'd just made. He gets the pen holder back on the desk and stands. "I'm sorry," he says.

Sherlock just nods.

"Look, I…I really need to think alone. You and Declan should go to John's for a while."

Sherlock stands and nods again. He's nervous, unsure of what to say or what to do. But he needs to know that Clement isn't upset with him.

"Dad, are you…are you mad at me?"

Clement shakes his head. "No, Sherlock, no not you. Come here."

Sherlock stands and goes to his dad, and Clement wraps his arms around Sherlock. Sherlock eases and hugs back, and Clement digs his nose into Sherlock's hair.

"We'll be ok," Clement whispers. "I just need to think, ok?"

Sherlock nods. "Ok."

Clement kisses his head and pulls back. "I love you. Thank you for telling me."

Sherlock nods again. "Love you too, Dad."

Clement lets him go and leads him to the door. "Just go to John's for a bit, ok? I need to think."

"Dad…" Sherlock mutters as Clement reaches for the doorknob. "Are you ok?"

Clement comfortingly rubs his back. "I just need some time alone."

"Ok," Sherlock frantically says, "Just don't…don't do anything bad, ok?"

Clement looks confused. "Bad?"

Sherlock thinks of the words to use. He knows how destructive he feels when he's angry and hurt, he knows the bad thoughts he's had when he feels low, and he doesn't want his dad to have those feelings, too. He wouldn't wish those thoughts on anyone. And he knows the bouts Clement's had with depression. Of course, Sherlock fears the worst.

"Don't…you know…don't _hurt_…" Sherlock looks up into his dad's eyes.

Realization sparks in Clement's face. "Oh!" He takes Sherlock tight in his arms again. "Oh, Sherlock. I'm fine, really. I just want to think alone, ok? I promise, I'm fine."

Sherlock sighs relief. "Ok."

Clement kisses his head again, then lets Sherlock go.

Sherlock runs upstairs to get Declan, then they make their way to John's.

"So…" Declan starts as they silently walk down the street. "So your mum…"

"Yep."

"How'd you find out?"

"I saw my mum kiss another man."

"Shit, dude. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I think. I hope."

"What do you think will happen? Think your dad will divorce your mum?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"What do you _want_ to happen?"

Sherlock shrugs again. "I don't know. My mum's hardly around anyway. I guess I wouldn't want them to get divorced, but it wouldn't be different if they did. I do want my dad to be happy, though."

"Yeah, nobody deserves that," Declan agrees.

They silently walk the rest of the way to John's, and finally arrive a minute later. Sherlock rings the doorbell and waits, and seconds later, John throws the door open.

He looks shocked. "Hey, love—"

Sherlock kisses him quickly, then pushes past him to enter the house.

John looks confused at Declan, then moves out of the way for Declan to enter.

"He told his dad," Declan says by way of apology for his cousin.

"Oh!" John sighs, closing the door.

Declan hangs his coat on the rack and Sherlock just flops onto the sofa, coat and all.

John goes to Sherlock and kneels next to him. He's face to face with Sherlock and rubs Sherlock's side.

Declan clears his throat to get John's attention. "Hey, uhm, I need to finish my homework, mind if I—"

"Oh, yeah. Uh, kitchen or my bedroom; make yourself at home."

"Thanks, man," Declan says, going upstairs to John's bedroom.

John directs his attention back to Sherlock. "You ok?"

"Just worried."

"About their marriage, or—"

"Just about my dad."

John nods.

"He was really, really mad."

"At you?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "At himself, mostly. I don't want him to do anything _bad_."

John knows what Sherlock means. "He'll be fine, ok? And after this, now that your dad knows, it can only get better."

"Better? How?"

"Well," John runs his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "When everything peaked with my parents, it was better after my dad…_left_. My mum was sad, but at least we weren't getting hurt anymore."

"Sorry, John, but my situation isn't exactly the same as yours."

"I know," John kisses his cheek. "But it still hurts, right?"

Sherlock nods.

"It'll get better."

Sherlock only puckers his lips, so John leans forward and kisses him lightly.

Sherlock and Declan return home around ten, long after they left. When they get there, they find the entire house (even their bedrooms) completely spotless, and Clement is scrubbing the kitchen.

They hastily make their way into the room, unsure of how Clement is feeling now.

"Hello, boys!" he cheerily calls. "How was your visit with John?"

"Fine…" Sherlock says, going to him. "How are you, Dad?"

"Perfectly well, thanks," Clement says, kissing Sherlock's head.

Sherlock yanks his head away, immediately smelling alcohol on his father.

Clement doesn't drink often; Sherlock can only count a handful of times in his life where he's seen his dad drunk. He doesn't care for it, he doesn't like seeing his dad anything less than his normal self (he also hates when Clement is ill), and now is no different.

"Come on, Dad," Sherlock says, tugging on Clement's arm. "Bed."

Suddenly, his dad begins to cry. The sobs are hidden by manic laughing, though, so that startles Sherlock even more. Declan just gasps and stands back.

"I can't sleep there," Clement says between laughs. "I can't go to sleep in my bed, son!"

Sherlock frowns, feeling more than sad for his father. "You can sleep in my bed."

Clement roughly shakes his head. "I can't do that!" he yells into Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock winces and drags his dad to the stairs. "Ok. Myc's bed, then. Is that alright?"

"Yes!" Clement yells again, stumbling onto the first step.

Sherlock grunts as Clement almost falls on the fifth step. "How were you perfectly scrubbing, with your bare hands, a butcher's knife two seconds ago but now you can't walk up the stairs?"

"Talent," Clement whispers.

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"I love you, Sherlock," Clement says.

"I love you too, Dad," Sherlock replies, more than a little annoyed.

They _finally _get up to Mycroft's bedroom, where Sherlock takes Clement's shoes off and makes Clement lay down on the bed. Sherlock makes sure his dad doesn't feel sick, then goes downstairs to get him a glass of water.

Declan's in the kitchen when he gets down there.

"How is he?" Declan asks.

"Something tells me I shouldn't have told him."

Declan pats his shoulder. "It's alright, dude. He just needed a bit of therapy, that's all."

"I hope that's it."

Declan nods. "I'm going to bed. You should, too."

"I will, as soon as I make sure my dad falls asleep."

Declan nods again, then leaves Sherlock.

Sherlock gets his dad three water bottles and takes them upstairs. When he enters Mycroft's bedroom, he hears soft snores coming from under the duvet. He sighs relief, then leaves the water on the bedside table and leaves.

He calls Mycroft as soon as he gets to his room.

"What is it, Sherlock? I'm at an important dinner."

Sherlock does think about waiting until later to tell Mycroft, that it can wait, but he's going to bed as soon as he can, so he blurts it out. "I told Dad."

Mycroft is silent for a second and Sherlock can hear him apologize to his meal mates. Sherlock hears him leave a restaurant, entering a busy New York street, then ask, "What happened?"

"I just figured, you know, I really want him to know. He was in his office, so I just went and told him. He was angry, he yelled and slapped the pen holder off his desk. Then he cleaned it up and told me to go to John's. We returned hours later and he was completely drunk and cleaning the whole house."

"Where is he now?" Mycroft asks.

"Asleep in your bed."

Mycroft sighs. "Why did you want him to know so badly, Sherlock? Why couldn't you just let it go?"

Sherlock grows angry. "Because Dad isn't an idiot!" he yells into the phone. "Dad is the best man I know besides you and he doesn't deserve for his to be fucking cheating on him!"

Mycroft pauses, waiting for Sherlock to go on, but Sherlock stops. "Is it all about Dad or is this about you, too?"

Sherlock sinks, even though Mycroft isn't there talking to him in person. "Why doesn't she care about me? This just seals it. She's never here, she never spends time with me, and now she's cheating on _my _dad. Why doesn't she care?"

"She does, Sherlock. Mum cares for us in her own way. She just…she cares for herself more."

"Obviously."

"I'm glad you did what you think is right."

"Thanks," Sherlock mutters.

"Now, I've got to go. I'll see you on Friday."

"Myc," Sherlock stops him from hanging up. "When you say, 'important dinner', do you mean—"

"I'm not on a date, Sherlock. I'm at a business dinner with important clients. I must go. See you soon."

"Ok," Sherlock says. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Brother."

Sherlock hangs up and decides to call John to tell him about what's happened. John just says he's sorry, that Sherlock shouldn't feel this stress, and though Sherlock agrees, it doesn't make him feel much better. After he hangs up with John, he goes to bed and tries to push everything out of his mind.


	32. Chapter 32: Dog-Walker

Sherlock and Declan are ready for school before Clement wakes up, so they walk to school without waking Clement. They meet John on the corner, where they usually do, and John asks if everything's ok.

Sherlock assures them that everything is fine, then tells them to focus on Ashley's case.

"I'm going to talk to the dog-walker this afternoon," Sherlock says. "Join?"

John frowns. "I've got to..." he glances uneasily at Declan, so Declan pretends to be busy on his phone. "I've got to go visit my dad today."

"Oh..." Sherlock says. "Did you want...am I..."

"You don't have to go," John says. "My mum's taking me and Harry's actually going, too. I would postpone to go with you, but it's his birthday, so..."

Sherlock nods. "Ok. Call me after then."

John nods.

Sherlock turns to Declan. "What about you?"

"Hmm?" Declan looks up. "Oh, I've got a date. Sorry, dude."

Sherlock frowns, but nods.

"Maybe Duke will go with you?" John tries as they start towards school again.

Sherlock shrugs.

Duke finds them and Sherlock asks if he'll go to the dog-walker's flat, but Duke says he's busy, too.

Sherlock frowns, then frowns deeper when Olive joins them.

"Hey, guys!" Olive greets.

"Do you know anything about dogs?" Sherlock questions.

Olive eyes him. "Eh...no, but-"

Sherlock sighs and turns back to his locker.

"You still mad at me, Holmes?" Olive asks.

Sherlock ignores her, not because he wants to but because he's thinking.

John elbows him.

Sherlock jumps and turns around. "What?!"

"I asked if you're still mad at me," Olive repeats.

"Why would I be? Because you asked my boyfriend to a dance? Mad? No."

"Uh-huh," Olive says. "Well, I'll just keep the information I have to myself."

Sherlock eyes her. "What information?"

Olive shrugs and turns to talk away. "It's not important now, you'll figure it out."

Sherlock rushes to follow her. "What is it? Tell me."

"No," Olive says, turning down the hall towards her class.

Sherlock follows her, even though his class is the opposite direction. "Please, Olive? Please?"

Olive enters her class. Sherlock follows.

"Mister Holmes, I don't believe you're in this class," the teacher, Mr. Hall says.

"Just a second," Sherlock tells him. "Please, Olive?"

"Say you forgive me."

"Fine," Sherlock says. "I forgive you for taking my boyfriend to the dance."

Olive smiles. "Good enough. So Brendan's best friend, Avery, is all beat up with allergies. I heard someone ask why, and she said her brother got a new dog and that she's terribly allergic to it. But it sounded like _such_ a lie!"

Sherlock glares at her. "So?"

"So?! Come on, Sherlock Holmes, you're not that thick. Brendan's dating that arsehole Ashley and suddenly his dog is missing when Brendan's, quote, 'best friend's brother', gets a new dog? That's no coincidence."

Sherlock pauses to think. "Brendan stole the dog and asked her friend to hold it."

"Duh."

Sherlock shakes his head. "That's too easy. I'm still going to talk to the dog-walker."

"Take me with you."

Sherlock sighs. "Fine. Meet me at my locker after school and you can go with me."

Olive smiles, then Sherlock leaves.

* * *

Throughout the morning, he thinks about his and Olive's conversation. He wonders why Brendan would take the dog of a boy she's known only a week, so he goes to find her during lunch.

"Hey, Brendan," Sherlock says, approaching her table.

She looks at him, confused. "Hey...Sherlock, was it?"

"Yeah. Can I talk to you a minute?"

Brendan nods and follows Sherlock out of the cafeteria.

"How long have you known Ashley?" Sherlock asks her once they're out.

"A few years," Brendan says.

"How?"

"My aunt lives in his building. I babysit my cousins sometimes, so I met him a long time ago."

Sherlock nods. "Ok, that's it. Thanks."

He leaves before Brendan can question why he's asking.

* * *

After school, he waits for Olive to go to the dog-walker's house. He checks his watch every ten seconds, as if Olive is taking forever, but she arrives two minutes after school ends.

"I was waiting on you," Olive says, walking towards the front doors of the school.

Sherlock looks shocked, then follows her out the door.

Sherlock has the money to get a cab for them to take to the dog-walker's house, but he doesn't miss the uneasy look the Olive gives when he hails the cab.

"I got it," Sherlock mutters, then opens the door for her.

She slightly smiles, then climbs in.

They're silent for most of the ride, and Olive breaks the silence.

"What do your parents do?" she timidly asks.

"Uhm, my mum's in business and my dad's kind of a stay-at-home parent."

"Oh, really?" she asks. "Your dad doesn't work?"

"Well, he helps my mum. He went to school for accounting so he kind of consults on things."

Olive nods.

"What about yours?"

"My dad's a cop and my mum works at Tesco."

"A cop? That's neat."

"Yeah. He's taught me a lot."

"Oh? Like what?"

Olive glances at him. "I can tell that you got a haircut last week."

Sherlock eyes her, he hadn't even told John about his haircut. "How?"

Olive reaches over and pulls at a long patch of hair on the back of his head, where it's longer than the rest because the barber missed a piece. Sherlock grabs at it and notices.

"Can't see the back of your own head," Olive says.

Sherlock nods.

"And," Olive adds, "You didn't kiss John today."

Sherlock eyes her again. "What makes you think that?"

"When you kiss John, your lips go dry and puffy. Like you're having an allergic reaction. Or you've had too much salt. I've noticed. Plus, you're all grumpy."

Sherlock shrugs. "That is quite observant, actually."

"Thanks," she says, looking out the window again.

Sherlock looks at her and deduces everything he can about her; pancakes for breakfast (syrup in her hair), switched shampoos yesterday (she smells different), took a bus to school (dry mud on her shin where she stumbled getting in), which also means she must have been late waking up (she ran to the bus). There's so much more, but Sherlock doesn't say any of it out loud. Instead, he shuts his mouth and looks out his window.

They finally get to the dog-walkers house and catch her as she's arriving home.

"Hello, ma'am, I'm Sherlock Holmes and this is my—" Sherlock pauses and glances at Olive. "_Friend_," he spits out, "Olive Degas. We've got a few questions concerning Ashley Damien's lost dog."

"Oh," she mutters. "Sure, yeah, come in."

She introduces herself as Kate, and she offers the kids tea and cookies. Olive accepts, but Sherlock declines. He glares at her.

"What? I'm hungry."

Sherlock rolls his eyes as Kate returns to them.

"So, how can I help you guys?" Kate asks.

Sherlock looks around the room as Olive starts with questions.

"How long have you been walking Ashley's dog?"

"A few years," Kate says. "The Damien family has lived here for years, and I've kept the dog the whole time."

"And you've never had problems with her before?"

She shakes her head. "No, none before now. Usually I'm able to let the pups run loose in the park, and I normally have no problem getting Yankee back. But last week, she was gone."

"You didn't see her being taken?" Sherlock asks, remembering that Ashley said she'd said a boy took the dog.

"N..." she pauses, catching her mistake. "No," she says anyway.

Sherlock nods and stands. "That's all. Thank you."

Olive confusedly stands and follows him out, taking the last of her cookies with her.

They get out of the house and down the street.

"What the heck?" Olive says. "I barely got a look around."

"She's in on it," Sherlock says. "She doesn't have the dog, though. Someone paid her to lie."

"Brendan?"

"Probably. But who was the kid who delivered the letter to Ashley at school?"

"What kid?" Olive asks.

"Exactly."

"No, I'm asking what kid did Ashley describe?"

"Uh, a 'little first year'."

Olive looks at him. "Brendan's got a first year cousin. Or brother."

Sherlock looks at her and raises an eyebrow. "You don't say?" he questions.

* * *

Sherlock can't do anything about confronting Brendan that night, so he goes home to check on his dad. Clement is up and dressed (and sober). When Sherlock walks in, he's watching television.

"Hey, Dad," Sherlock says.

Clement looks up and smiles. "Hey, Sherlock. Come sit down."

Sherlock hangs his coat and goes to the sofa.

Clement pats his shoulder. "I'm sorry about last night. I…I freaked out, I guess. I didn't know what to do. But…" Clement grasps his shoulder. "I'm fine."

Sherlock looks into his eyes. "What are you going to do, Dad?"

Clement takes a deep breath. "Well, when Myc gets here this weekend, I'm going to sit down with both of you to consult. As of now, I don't know, but we'll talk this weekend. Ok?"

Sherlock nods.

Clement kisses his head. "I love you, son. It's alright."

Sherlock nods.

"How about we go out for dinner, hmm? Just you and me? Declan's with Ellery and it looks like John's busy."

Sherlock gasps and remembers that his phone rang when he was at Olive's house (he wanted to meet her cop father). He fishes the mobile out of his pocket and checks it; sure enough, there's a missed call from John.

"Sorry, Dad," Sherlock says. "Hang on a bit?"

"Yeah, no problem," Clement says, turning the volume up on the television again.

Sherlock rushes up to his room and calls John. John answers almost immediately.

"Hello?" he sounds upset.

"John? What happened?"

"He didn't see us," John says. "He didn't _want_ to see us."

"They can do that?"

"Apparently," John mutters.

"How do you feel?"

"Not great," John says. "How's Ashley's case going?"

"I'm not talking about his case or about me right now," Sherlock says. "Are you angry?"

John sighs. "A bit."

"At what?"

"At…" John pauses. "At my dad, I guess. He didn't want to see us, Sherlock. So we drove all the way over to see him and…he…refused."

Sherlock frowns. "I'm sorry, John."

"It's just…" John sighs. "My mum still tries so fucking hard, you know? Before Christmas, we go. His birthday, we go. Father's Day, we go. We used to go for our birthdays until we found other things to do for our birthdays, remember? But the fucking arsehole can't be fucking bothered to see us this time."

"Did you even really want to see him, John? Do you ever?"

"It's just…_he_ didn't want to see _us_, you know? He's the adult, he's the one who was, just a few months ago, telling us how he was going to try to make everything right."

"He won't, John," Sherlock quietly says.

"I fucking know that, Sherlock," John sternly says.

Sherlock closes his eyes and wishes he hadn't said that.

"I was fucking there, I know he's never going to make anything right."

"Ok," Sherlock whispers. "I'm sorry."

John takes a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry. It's not you I'm mad at. As a matter of fact, you're the only person I'm not mad at."

"Even though I took Olive to talk to the dog-walker?"

John chuckles. "Yes. Even though you took Olive to see the dog-walker instead of me."

Sherlock smiles. "Come to dinner with my dad and I. Please?"

"Ok, love. I'll be over in a minute."

"Ok," Sherlock says. "See you soon."

"See you," John says, then hangs up.

Sherlock goes downstairs again to tell Clement that John will be joining them for dinner.

"Perfect," Clement says with a smile. "Where is he now, though? You said you went out with Olive."

"First of all," Sherlock says, sitting next to Clement. "I did not _go out with_ Olive. Olive and I went to interview a suspect."

Clement chuckles.

"Anyway," Sherlock says. "John had to go see his dad today."

"Oh," Clement mutters.

"And his dad didn't want to see him. They went all the way over there and he didn't want to see John or Harry."

"Oh, man."

"Yeah. He's a bit upset."

"Understandable."

Sherlock nods.

Clement pats his shoulder. "It'll be ok."

Sherlock runs his hands through his hair. "Everything is just so fucked up lately." He pauses for Clement to address his cursing. When he doesn't, Sherlock goes on. "Mum, this, Mycroft and Lestrade," Sherlock sighs. "I just…everything is so weird."

Clement eyes him. "What about Mycroft and Lestrade?"

Sherlock slowly shifts his gaze over. "Uhm…"

"What happened with Mycroft and Lestrade?"

"Well," Sherlock holds his hands up. "It's not about what happened, it's about…what isn't happening."

"Tell me."

Sherlock quickly stands from the sofa. "Nope."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock rushes out of the sitting room and runs upstairs to wait for John.

Dinner goes well, even though Clement is awkwardly trying not to talk about John's situation and also asking over and over what's going on with Mycroft and Lestrade. Sherlock doesn't offer any information, and Clement ends up flustered about it the whole time.

* * *

_**A/N: If you read my story **_**Being 16 _(and if you haven't you should!), you'll know there's one character in these stories that I like more than the main characters, and in this story, that character is Olive. She's back and useful and I enjoy her too much. Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review! _**


	33. Chapter 33: Brendan

_**A/N: As usual, thank you so much for reading and review. Glad you all are enjoying! **_

* * *

The next morning, Sherlock goes to school fully expecting to confront Brendan for the theft of Ashley's dog, but he's reminded of another detail. Ashley approaches him early and informs Sherlock of a new ransom note.

"This one was in the mailbox when I got home yesterday," Ashley says, handing the note over. "It's typed, unlike the others."

This note is threatening Ashley with letting the dog go loose if they don't get money before the end of tomorrow. They leave an address for a mailbox, but Sherlock knows there's no time to find who owns the mailbox.

"The other notes were handwritten?" Sherlock remembers. He takes them out of his locker and rushes down the hall to find Brendan.

He finally sees her at her locker, alone, so he goes right up to her. "Hey, Brendan!" he calls, too excited.

"Hey, Sherlock…"

Sherlock wants to see her handwriting, to make sure it matches up to the ransom notes, so he makes up a story. "Ashley wants your science notes from yesterday's class. I just saw him."

Brendan rolls her eyes, buying it. "That fucking—" she mutters under her breath. She pulls out a notebook and hands it to Sherlock. "Here."

Sherlock opens the book, excited to crack a case, but he's shocked to see that Brendan's handwriting doesn't match the ransom notes at all. It doesn't make sense to him. Surely Brendan typed the newest note because she was there when Ashley gave Sherlock the notes. Obviously, she knows they're on to her.

Sherlock shuts her notebook and hands it back. "On second thought, he can use mine. Cheers!" he turns around and rushes away.

He practically runs through the halls now, down to the class Olive's in, and rushes in.

Olive laughs when she sees him. "Holmes? What are you—"

"Who is Brendan's cousin? Or brother, or whatever?"

Olive chuckles. "Uhm, Tanner Butler. A first year. He's got long-ish brown hair, he's thin—"

Sherlock holds his hand up. "Thanks," he says, rushing out of the room.

He saw the kid in a photo in Brendan's locker. He knows exactly who he's looking for.

Unfortunately, the bell rings as he's exiting Olive's class, so he's late to his own class. The hall is empty, save for the one teacher who monitors the hall for tardy students.

"Holmes!" the teacher calls down the hall.

Sherlock pauses and the teacher approaches him.

Sherlock receives detention for the class period he's currently tardy for (a system Sherlock doesn't understand), so he goes to the detention room for the entire hour. Once he's let out, he runs around campus in the five minutes he has to find the kid. He spots him with two minutes left until class begins.

Sherlock runs up to Tanner and grabs him by the shirt collar. "Where's Yankee?!" Sherlock yells in the kid's face.

"I don't know!" Tanner cries.

Sherlock tightens the grip on his shirt. "What have you done with her?"

"Nothing, nothing! Brendan just told me to write the notes and deliver them to Ashley, that's all!"

Sherlock lets Tanner go and steps back. "Thank you," he says, turning to walk away.

He imagines he's left Tanner in a state of shock, but he can't be bothered to care. He slowly walks down the hall thinking. Of course, Avery's got the dog. That's a no-brainer. And Brendan did take the dog, and then paid off the dog-walker to keep her mouth shut. But why did Brendan take it?

"Holmes!" Sherlock hears again.

He pauses and realizes the bell had rung and the hall is now empty. "Damn," he mutters, turning towards the teacher.

He gets issued another detention, so he goes there and waits. Fortunately, he gets a chance to text Ashley to tell him the entire situation.

**To Ashley Damien**: Brendan stole your dog and Avery is keeping her. She paid off your dog-walker to let them have the dog and to stay quiet. Find Avery, she'll give the dog back quicker. She's allergic.

A second later, he gets a reply.

**From Ashley Damien:** Wow. Thanks, man. That's…a lot of information. But why?

**To Ashley Damien**: That's for you to talk to Brendan with. I'm pretty sure it's something to do with the way you treat her, judging by the way you were so quick to deny that she's your girlfriend and the hurt look on her face.

He doesn't get a reply, not that he expected to.

Sherlock finally gets to his third period class and tells John and Declan all about what's already happened this morning. They congratulate him on closing a new case, and John discreetly kisses his hand and beams at him all class.

* * *

Right before lunch, Sherlock, John, Declan, and Ellery are standing at Sherlock's locker and are about to leave for the cafeteria. Ashley arrives, so they wait to talk to him.

"Thanks again, Holmes," Ashley says. "Brendan admitted to stealing my dog because, like you said, the way I treat her."

"So, you're broken up then?" John asks.

"No," Ashley says, "We're going out tonight."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and closes his locker.

"Anyway, do you require payment, or—"

"No," Sherlock says. "This one was actually fun. It was…my pleasure."

Ashley flashes a bright smile and Sherlock minutely gasps. John glares at him.

"Alright then," Ashley says. "Until next time." He smiles again, this time at Ellery, then takes her hand and kisses it. "See you all later."

Ellery blushes and smiles.

Declan throws his hands in the air. "Oh for god's—" he turns to walk away, but Ellery grabs his arm.

"Declan!" she cries, then grasps his shoulder, steps up on her toes, and plants a quick peck on his lips.

Declan just pauses, and Sherlock and John both wonder if he had an aneurism. They know Ellery and Declan have never kissed on the lips before, so they can both imagine that Declan is just about brain dead.

"Uh…uh…" Declan babbles.

Ellery laughs, then turns and grabs his hand. "Come on."

Sherlock and John exchange an excited look, and then follow the other couple to lunch.

* * *

Sherlock goes to John's after school to copy notes from the two classes he'd missed that morning. Dawn is home, so they sit in the living room with her to visit. She asks for John to have dinner with her alone that evening, so Sherlock leaves as soon as he's finished with his homework.

When he gets home, he finds Declan and Ellery on the sofa. He expects to see them kissing, but they're talking about the current book the classes are reading in literature.

"Oh, hey dude," Declan calls. "Didn't hear you."

"I expect not," Sherlock says.

Declan's about to retort, but Sherlock just whirls away and rushes upstairs.

Clement makes them dinner, but announces he's going to meet a few friends after. "I'm meeting a few old friends at the pub," he says. "I'll be back later, ok?"

Sherlock frowns. "At the pub?"

"Don't worry," Clement kisses his head. "I'm not drinking. Remember Dave? It's his birthday. We're meeting, well, _they're _meeting for drinks."

Sherlock nods. "Okay."

"I'll be back later. If you two go anywhere, be home by ten, yeah?"

Sherlock and Declan nod.

Clement kisses them both, says goodbye to Ellery, then leaves.

"So…he's..." Declan starts as soon as Clement's gone.

"Shut up," Sherlock says, taking his plate upstairs to his bedroom.

* * *

Sherlock's up in his bedroom alone for a long time. He's listening to music with his headphones and doing homework, so he doesn't hear anyone enter his room. He jumps when Declan pats his shoulder.

"What the hell!" Sherlock yells.

Declan laughs. "I was knocking for, like, five minutes."

Sherlock takes many deep breaths and pauses his music. "What's up?"

"I'm taking Ellery home, then I have to go to Duke's to help him with anatomy. I'll be back later, ok?"

Sherlock nods.

Declan gets to the door, and Sherlock mutters, "If you need any help teaching Duke anatomy, let me know. I've become quite the expert at _anatomy_." He chuckles, laughing at his own innuendo.

"Oh, shove it."

He hears Declan leave, so he takes out his headphones and lets the music play loudly.

It's nearly eight and he knows Clement won't be home soon, so he changes his mind and takes his laptop downstairs to play the record player as loudly as he wants.

An hour passes and Declan still hasn't returned, and that's fine with Sherlock. What isn't fine is the tree outside Clement's office window keeps scraping against the window and startling him. He knows it's the tree, but that doesn't stop the sound from scaring him every few minutes.

Sherlock pauses the music when he thinks he hears a car door open and close. He assumes Clement is home, or that Declan got a cab, but when nobody comes to the door, he turns the music up again and lets it go.

A minute later, he thinks he hears it again, so he pauses the music and stands. Then, he hears the doorknob of the front door jiggle, so he grabs a fireplace poker and leaves the office.

He tiptoes to the door, and still hears someone messing with the doorknob. Clement changed the locks just that day, and he and Declan received a key, so whoever it is doesn't even know that Clement changed the lock.

He holds up the fireplace poker as if ready to swing. Whoever is on the other side of the door realizes they can't get in, so they move to the window at the side of the door. Sherlock pulls it back to swing, and the person gets the window open and starts to climb in.

"The least you could do is open the god damn door!"

Sherlock's jaw drops and he gasps. He drops the poker and rushes to Mycroft, who is currently climbing through the window. He helps Mycroft through and takes him in a tight hug.

"Oh," Mycroft gasps, surprised. But he hugs Sherlock back and digs his nose into Sherlock's hair.

"I thought you weren't coming in until Friday night," Sherlock says, his arms still wrapped around Mycroft.

"Are you surprised?" Mycroft asks, loosening his grip.

Sherlock finally lets him go. "Yes, of course. Why did you come early?"

"I missed you," Mycroft says. "I missed Dad. I took the next two days off and decided to fly home early."

Sherlock just smiles. "Well, that's great, then."

"Where's Dad?" Mycroft asks, picking up his suitcase to take it upstairs.

"He went out with his friends."

Mycroft looks at him, curious.

Sherlock shrugs. "Apparently, he's got friends."

Mycroft nods, and then starts up the stairs. "Dad's been sleeping in my bed?"Mycroft asks as they enter his bedroom.

"Yeah. He can't sleep in his own bed, apparently."

"Everything is just so apparent to you," Mycroft mutters.

"Apparently." Mycroft chuckles.

"Where am I to sleep then?"

"Dad's bed?"

Mycroft sighs.

Sherlock grins. "Lestrade's bed?"

Mycroft laughs. "I don't think so, Brother."

"Come on! Go see him!" Mycroft turns to Sherlock.

"I came to see you."

"But…but Lestrade!"

"I'll see him tomorrow then, alright?"

Sherlock nods.

They decide to make their dad sleep on the sofa, or in his own bed, and once Mycroft's unpacked, they go downstairs to watch television. Sherlock gets Mycroft dinner, and then they set up to watch a documentary on solving crimes. Sherlock tells Mycroft all about Ashley's case, then about many other things going on.

Declan arrives home around ten, just like Clement said to. "Hey, Sherlock, I'm—" he turns in to the sitting room and jumps. "Oh, hey Myc."

"Hello, Declan. How are you?"

Declan looks around, towards the kitchen. "Is Brook here?"

"Uh, no," Mycroft says. "Unfortunately, your brother couldn't make the trip this weekend."

"Ok…" Declan sighs, disappointed.

"Sherlock tells me you and Ellery are becoming quite the item," Mycroft says.

"Oh," Declan smiles as he sits next to Mycroft and Sherlock. "Yeah, I…I guess so. She kissed me today for the first time."

Sherlock cuts in. "Because you were so jealous that you were ready to call it off with her."

"He shouldn't have kissed her hand!" Declan cries.

Sherlock laughs.

Mycroft just smiles. "Well, congratulations, dear cousin. I wish you two well."

"Thank you," Declan says. "Well, I'm going to bed. See you guys later."

He goes to the stairs and starts up, then Sherlock calls, "How was Duke's anatomy?"

"Shut up!" Declan yells down the stairs.

Sherlock and Mycroft laugh.

Clement arrives home an hour later. Sherlock's slumped on the sofa, asleep next to Mycroft, and Mycroft's wide awake going over a few files he'd brought.

"Sherlock, I'm—" Clement rounds the corner to see Sherlock asleep. "Mycroft!"

Mycroft sets the files down and stands, and Clement grabs him and pulls him into a hug.

Sherlock stirs awake and blinks up at them. "Dad?"

Clement practically cries with joy. "Both of my boys under one roof!"

Sherlock rubs his eyes and sits up.

"Come on," Mycroft pulls at his arm. "Bed."

Mycroft drags Sherlock to his feet and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Sherlock sits on the bed and pulls his shoes off.

"I'll see you tomorrow, ok?" Mycroft asks. "What do you want to do?"

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know. Just dinner, I guess."

"Really? I wasn't expecting you to want to go to school."

Sherlock looks at him. "I can stay home tomorrow?"

Mycroft nods. "If you'd like."

Sherlock smiles widely. "Can we go to a museum?"

"Yes," Mycroft says. "Sleep well. I'll wake you in the morning."

Sherlock nods. "Ok. Goodnight, Myc."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."


End file.
